Chapter IX: Part 9

It was barely half-past nine, and as he handed her out, he would have parted from her; but she clung to his hand, and together they went up into the drawing-room, where, once more alone, Laura threw herself at his feet, clinging to him, sobbing hysterically, imploring him to forgive her, to be lenient to her; it was all for love of him--the love she had borne him so long without a tender word in return. She accused herself of want of womanly feeling, of baseness, of treachery, lashing herself with fierce words in her passion, till, moved by pity, maddened by despair and disappointment, Charley Vining began to feel that he was but weak--that he was but man, after all. The icy coldness gradually melted away, and he whispered first a few words, then one arm was passed round the kneeling form.

"Forgive me--forgive! It is all for the love of you!" sobbed Laura with a fierceness of emotion that startled him.

"Forgive you?" he said; "I have nothing to forgive."

And then Ella, the past, all was forgotten, as his other arm drew her nearer to him as she knelt, and the next moment, with a wild sigh, Laura's arms were tightly clasping his neck, and her face was buried in his breast. Then a click of the door-handle, a stream of light, and Laura was upon her feet, tall, proud, and defiant.

"Did you ring for candles, ma'am?" said the voice of the butler.

"Set them down," was the reply; and the man withdrew.

Charley had risen too, and was standing by her side.

"Go, now," she said, in a choking voice; "I can bear no more to-night. But tell me--O, tell me," she cried, throwing herself at his feet, and clasping his knees--"tell me that you forgive me!"

"Forgive you, my poor girl?" said Charley softly, as he bent down to her, once more to pass his arms round her lithe form, when, with a bound, she was again nestling in his breast, but with her face turned towards his, and for a moment their lips met.

The next, Laura had hurried from the room; while, with every pulse in his frame beating furiously, Charley walked down to the hall, accepted the footman's assistance with his coat, and then he made his way-out into the great deserted street, to walk staggering along like one who had drunk heavily of some potent liquor. But Charley Vining's was a maddening sense. What had he done? He had not waited for the proof. He had been weak and vile in his own sight; and as he staggered along, he anathematised himself again and again, and, as if appealing to some great power, he called upon Ella to save him from the degradation of his heart.

"False!--false!--false to her! A coward--a scoundrel--a villain! Why was I made with such a weak and empty heart?"

Then he walked on faster and faster for long enough, not heeding where he went, but muttering still:

"Fate, fate, fate! And I have done all that mail can do. I must submit, and I love her not. Do I not hate her--or has she conquered?"

"Hadn't you better take a cab, sir?" said a rough voice; and a policeman's hand was laid upon his arm. "It's too bad, r'aly, sir; but you gents will do it. Now, only think of coming into a place like this here, reg'lar lushy, and with diamond studs and gold watches and chains shining out in the light, and asking poor starving men to steal them!"

"I'm not drunk, my man," cried Charley, himself again in a moment. "Thank you; get me a cab. Not a savoury locality!" and he glanced round at the dark lane and the ill-looking figures about.

"This way, then, sir," said the man; and he led him into a wider thoroughfare, where, a cab being called, and the policeman substantially thanked, Charley Vining was driven to his hotel, his brain a very chaos of doubt, despondency, and rage at what he called his baseness and falseness to his vows.

End of Volume Two.

Volume 3, Chapter I.

IN THE BALANCE.

As if to show him how long he had been heedlessly wandering through the streets, Charley found Sir Philip quietly seated at the hotel on his return; and though his father carefully forbore to make any reference to the past, Charley fancied that he could detect a sense of elation on the old gentleman's part--one which seemed to anger him more as his heart kept reproaching him for the evening's lapse.

But Sir Philip made not the slightest reference to the events of the evening, not even remarking upon Laura's indisposition; but there was an impressive way with which Sir Philip parted from his son that night, that Charley interpreted to mean satisfaction, and he frowned heavily as he sought his own room.

In spite of his troubled mind, without recourse to narcotics, the young man slept soundly and long, waking, though, with a strange heavy sense of oppression troubling him, as the thoughts of the past night's events came upon him slowly one by one, till he was half maddened, hating himself for the part he had played, or, rather, for his weakness.

Then he recalled Ella's quiet peaceful face as he saw her turn round to Max; and he asked himself why he should consider himself as in any way bound to her who refused to hold him by any ties. Morally he knew that he was quite free, and that, bitterly as he regretted the last night's tete-a-tete with Laura Bray, he had shed sunshine upon her heart, and left her happy and exultant.

Then he remembered his promise to accompany her to the terminus at Paddington. He could not go--he would not go! But that was some hours distant yet, and for a while he felt that he need not trouble himself about it.

But what should he do? Write a long letter to Laura, telling her that she was to forgive his weakness of the past night, and bid her farewell for ever, while he made immediate arrangements for going abroad somewhere? Was it too late in life for him to get a commission? If he could, he would have to wait months perhaps, and he wanted to leave England at once. Africa seemed to present the field that would afford him the most variety and change. He would go there for a few years. He could soon make arrangements; and in the excitement of hunting, he would find the diversion he so much required.

But then about Laura? He recalled the scene at Lexville, where she had hung upon his arm and wept; and then the events of the past night flashed upon him, and he groaned as he told himself that he had been cowardly and weak--that as yet he had had no proof that Ella was lost to him for ever.

What was the last night's scene, then?

He stamped upon the floor with impotent rage, and determined at last to forswear all ties. He went out directly after lunch to make preliminary inquiries respecting the means for leaving England. Paddington, Laura, Max, Miss Bedford, were driven from his mind, and he hurried along, but only to hear his name uttered as he passed an open carriage; and starting and turning round, there was Laura, flushed and happy-looking, sitting with her hands outstretched to him.

He could not help himself, though he called himself weak and folly-stricken, as he took her hand in his, watching the bright flush give way to a deadly pallor.

"How she loves me!" thought Charley, as he leaned on the side of the barouche; and it was from no vanity or conceit; he was too true-hearted and genuine, too honest and simple-minded. "Why should I make her unhappy, perhaps for life, when, by a sacrifice, I can send joy into her heart--into the heart of that loving old man? What have I to care for, what to live for, that I should hesitate?"

"Ella!" his conscience whispered; but the whisper was very faint; it was hardly heard amidst the tumult of contending thoughts. The African scheme was forgotten, and Charley Vining was in the balance. One vigorous pressure on either scale would carry the beam down. How was it to be?

How was it to be? The indicator was pointing directly upwards, each scale poised and motionless. Coldness, distant behaviour, returned letters, an evidently favoured rival--a man almost beneath contempt-- misery for those who loved him, and more bitterness: all these in one scale; and in the other--

A passionate determined love, strong as his own, a woman pleading to him for what he had so long refused, warmth, tenderness, no rivalry, gratification to Sir Philip, and, above all, the knowledge that on the past night he had allowed himself to be betrayed into a warmth for which he had been blaming himself as though he had committed a grievous sin.

Which was the scale to go down, when Laura was in trembling tones, and, in a retiring way, asking him to take the seat by her side, for the time would soon be at hand for the visit to Paddington?

Her voice trembled audibly as she spoke, but the latter scale did not go fiercely down: the indicator only moved slightly in Laura's favour, as, remembering his promise of the day before, Charley said he would go, and took his seat by her side. It was only a slight motion, and the faintest breath from Ella's lips would have sent that scale up--up--up rapidly, till it kicked the beam.

But there was no breath there, though Charley's heart still clung to Ella fondly. Laura's scale wanted a strong impulse in her favour, and as, half triumphant, half sad, she felt Charley Vining take his place by her side, she flushed, then paled, and again and again a strange shiver of dread passed through her frame. Once even her teeth chattered, as if some fearful illness was attacking her. But the disease was only mental, and, seeking Charley's hand, her own nestled in it--clung to it convulsively, as if she dreaded even now that she would lose him, when so very, very near the goal of her hopes, of her plotting and scheming; and yet she had not known of his anger against self, and the plans for going abroad; though had she known them, she could have trembled no more.

Laura's scale was growing heavier; for Charley did not withdraw his hand, but let hers rest therein. It only wanted one addition either way now, for the weighing was just at hand--the scales were no longer evenly poised. Which was to sink boldly? The striking of the clock at five would decide it, and it was now four.

Volume 3, Chapter II.

THE WEIGHING.

If any one will take the trouble to refer to _Bradshaw's Guide_--that fine piece of exercise for the brain--for the month in the year in which the events being recorded took place, he will find, in connection with the Great Western Railway service, that whereas the down express left Paddington at 4:50 p.m., there was an up train due at the platform at 4:55.

It was to meet this latter train that Mr Bray's barouche was being rattled over the newly macadamised roads, with Charley Vining and Laura therein.

No one could have sat by Laura's side for an instant without remarking her extreme agitation; and as Charley turned to gaze in her pleading face, he felt something like pity warming his breast towards her--her agitation was so genuine, and she had shown him the night before how earnest and passionate was her love.

Pity is said to be very nearly akin to love, and Charley's pity was growing stronger. Why should he not take the good the gods provided him? She asked no more. But no; there was that one great proof wanted; and his words were quite cold and commonplace as he said to her, "You seem unwell. Do you not think it would be better to return home? Why, this poor little hand is quite chilly, and you shiver. You must have taken cold last night."

"Cold? Last night? No, no," she said hoarsely; and he felt the pressure upon his hand tighten. "We must meet Nelly, and I am quite well, Charley. I never felt more happy."

He encountered her glance, but it awoke no response in his breast; and as he read her countenance, he saw there the tokens of a terrible agitation, and surely he may be excused for imagining himself the cause.

"At last!" said Charley impatiently, as he handed Laura out, trembling violently; but the next moment, though she was deathly pale, the agitation seemed to have passed away, and taking his arm, she held to it tightly.

"Ten minutes too soon," said Charley. "Shall we go round to the waiting-room?"

"Yes, please," cried Laura eagerly; and walking round, he stopped to read a waybill.

"Let me see," he said; "this train leaves first. Ours comes in five minutes after."

"Take me into the waiting-room," said Laura anxiously. "It is cold out here."

"I fear that you are going to be unwell," he said, attending to her request.

"No; indeed, indeed I am quite well, dearest Charley," she whispered, and an impatient frown crossed his brow; but he said no more, only half led, half followed her to a window looking out upon the platform, where there was the customary hurry previous to the departure of a train, when the first bell has rung. Porters running here and there with luggage, cool passengers, excited passengers, box- and wrapper-laden ladies'-maids seeking second-class carriages; footmen bearing fasces of umbrellas and walking-sticks; heavy swells seeking smoking-compartments; Smith's boys shouting the evening papers; and as they gazed through the great plate-glass window of the waiting-room, the hurry and bustle seemed to have an interest for Charley he had never known before.

"We shall be in plenty of time when this train has gone," said Laura; and she clung very tightly to his arm. "I long to see Nelly again. Don't you think she improves?"

"Very much. I quite love that child!" said Charley with some animation. "She is so piquante, and fresh, and genuine!"

A sort of gasping sigh escaped from Laura's breast, but he would not heed it.

And now the bustle was nearly over; the last bell had rung, the inspector had taken his last glance, the doors were banging, and the guard's whistle was at his lips, when the inspector held up his hand, as there came the pattering of hastening feet on the platform.

"Bai Jove, portare, make haste, or we shall miss it!" cried a familiar voice.

"This way, sir," was the reply; and an official trotted by with a black portmanteau on his shoulder and a bag in his hand; and Charley started as if he had received a fatal stab, for directly following, clinging to Max Bray's arm, shawled and muffled, and pale as ashes, Ella Bedford passed the window.

"Max!" exclaimed Laura excitedly, while, as Charley made a movement to reach the door, she clung to his arm. "Dearest Charley," she whispered in low impassioned tones, "my own love, my dear life, do not leave me! pray, pray do not leave! I love you dearly, more dearly than ever, and my heart bleeds for you--truly--faithfully!" She could say no more, for her emotion choked her utterance; but she clung to him wildly, as he stood, now pale and motionless as a statue, gazing through the window. And in those brief moments what had he seen?

Ella handed into a first-class compartment, Max following her, while her pale face was directly opposite to Charley, and only a couple of carriage-lengths distant. Then came the bang of the door, the piping whistle, the shriek of the engine, then the rapidly increasing panting snorts as of impatience to be off; the carriages glided by; and where Ella Bedford's face had been the moment before, was first one and then another, strangers all; then the guards own, then blankness--a blankness that seemed to have made its way to his soul, till looking down he became aware of the stony face gazing up into his, the wild eyes, the parted lips, and the arms clinging to him so tightly.

His face softened as he gazed down at her, and then a sigh tore its way from his breast; a sigh that seemed to bear with it the image of a pale sweet face; and from that moment it was to Charley Vining as if he had been transformed into another man.

"My poor girl!" he said softly, more than pityingly, as he drew her arm closer to his breast.

"Charley!" she sighed gently; but there were volumes in that one word; and had they been alone, she would have thrown herself upon his breast, where she felt now she might cling. Then her eyes closed, a faint hysterical sob passed her lips, and she smiled, as if from a sense of ineffable satisfaction, as she felt his strong arms supporting her--that he was bearing her towards the inner room; and then all was blank.

Ten minutes after, Laura unclosed her eyes, to find herself upon a couch, with Nelly and Charley at her side; and starting up, she rested upon one elbow. Then she fixed her eyes upon the latter, and caught at his hand.

"You will not leave me?" she gasped hoarsely.

"No!" he whispered almost tenderly. "I feared that you were unwell." And he passed his hand across her damp brow, smoothing back the raven hair; and Laura sank back, her eyes closed and a smile upon her lip, drawing with her his hand, which she held tightly in both hers; for, saving Nelly, they were now alone.

A quarter of an hour passed in silence, and then Charley Vining said gently:

"Do you think you can bear to be moved?"

"Yes," she said, rising eagerly and fixing her eyes upon his, "if you are with me. But," she said, leaning towards him and whispering, "do not be angry; only tell me, to set me at rest--tell me that you will not--Max--dear Charley, you know what I mean."

"Follow Max--your brother?" said Charley sternly; "no!"

The next minute Laura was leaning upon his arm, and they sought the carriage, Nelly taking Charley's other arm, and whispering to him as he turned towards her with a sad smile on his lip, "I'm so sorry, Charley, and yet so glad, and I don't know how I feel; but tell me, is it to be _brother_ Charley?"

"Hush!" said the other sternly, as they reached the carriage.

Had he not been so preoccupied, Charley Vining would have seen that a strange man, rather shabbily-dressed, was close beside him, vainly attempting to gain his attention; for, after handing Laura and her sister into the barouche, he was about to leave them to return alone; but the imploring look of dread in Laura's eyes stayed him, and yielding to her outstretched hand, he leaped in and took his place opposite.

Upon reaching Harley-street the strange man seemed to be there before them, and Charley would again have left, but Laura begged him to go with her upstairs; and seeing how pale and disturbed she was, he accompanied her to the drawing-room.

"There!--need I tell you on my honour," he said, taking her hand gently, "you need be under no fear."

"And--and, Charley," she said appealingly, "you will not judge me harshly?"

"Judge you harshly?" he said; "no." And as she held out her hands to him, he took her gently to his breast and kissed her.

"Do you know how happy you have made me?" she whispered, clinging to him and gazing up in his pale honest face.

"No," he said in the same tone; "but I fear I have pained you sorely."

"Charley!"

"Laura!"

There was no other sound heard in that room but those softly uttered words; and when, a minute or two after, Mrs Bray quietly opened the door unobserved, she stepped back again on the points of her toes smiling with a satisfied air, and posted herself as a sentinel upon the stairs.

And all this while that strange man was impatiently watching the windows from the other side of the street.

"Couldn't get to see you before, sir," said a voice, as Charley Vining left Mr Bray's house in Harley-street. "Perhaps you'll run over that while I follow you and wait for farther orders."

Charley started, and looked up to see that a rather shabbily-dressed man was walking away from him, after placing a note in his hands.

"Mr M.B. went to Crescent Villas at nine this morning, stayed ten
minutes, returned to Bury-street, left Bury-street at three in a cab
with a black portmanteau, and was driven to the front of the
Colosseum. Waited an hour, and was then joined by Miss E.B. carrying
a small black bag--very pale, and evidently been crying. Mr M.B.
said aloud, `At last!' as he handed her into the cab. Driven rapidly
to Paddington-station. Took first-class tickets to Penzance, and left
by 4:50 express. Are we to follow?"

So read Charley Vining, the letters at times swimming before his eyes. He glanced round, and the bearer was a dozen yards in his rear. But he waved him back. A quarter of an hour ago, and he had told himself that he was free; but the suggestion at the end of the letter whispered him that some links of his old chains still clung around. But no; he would not have them followed. Why should he? What was it to him? But for his infatuation, he might have known to what all was tending. It was nothing to him now; but a sigh that was almost a sob escaped from his breast, as, once more turning, he waited till the man was alongside.

"Tell Mr Whittrick he need take no farther steps," said Charley in a voice that he hardly knew for his own; and touching his hat, without another word, the man glided off, disappearing round the corner of the next street so rapidly, that when, upon second thoughts, Charley would have set him another task, and hurried after him with that intention, he was out of sight.

Five minutes after, Charley was in a cab and on his way to Crescent Villas; where, after a little parley, he was now admitted to the presence of Mrs Marter, red-eyed, furious, and ready, apparently, to make an onslaught upon the first person who offended her.

Before he had been there long, the rapid flow of the angry woman's words told of how, by cunning, flattering, and attention, Max Bray had gained a footing in the house; the weak vain woman believing that his visits were all upon her account, and willingly accepting the presence of Ella as a blind. Her only sin was a love of flattery, attention, and Max Bray's escorts to the various places of amusement; but now the veil had dropped from her eyes, and she spoke.

"It has all been planned for long enough," she exclaimed passionately, "and they have gone off together." And then she burst forth into a furious tirade against deceit, forgetful entirely of how she was hoist with her own petard.

Charley could hear no more, but hurried away, confused, doubting, heart-sick. What faith could he place in any one again? He had gone to Crescent Villas in the hope that he was, after all, wrong; that there was some mistake which might be cleared up; and according to this woman the idol of his heart had been a monster of treachery and deceit.

He was ready to make any allowance for the mad passion of a woman who found that she had been made the tool of the designing; but, after all, what could he say to his wounded heart after the scenes he had witnessed? What right had he now to trouble himself, though--what was it to him? There was nothing to palliate what he had seen; and now he must begin life afresh. What he had to do was to draw a line across the mental diary of his life--a thick black mark between the present and the bygone--and at that line he told himself his thoughts must always stay; for upon that past he could not bear to dwell.

Forgive her? He had nothing to forgive. She had always told him, from the first, that it could not be; while he had blindly and impetuously rushed on to his heart's destruction.

Volume 3, Chapter III.

BEGINNING AGAIN.

And how about Laura? Well, she loved him, and it was his father's wish. He had committed himself to it now, too; and if he were to marry, why not her as well as any other woman?

So mused Charley Vining, weakly enough; but he is here held up as no model--simply as a weak erring man, whose passions had been deeply moved. He had been, as it were, in a fearful life-storm, to be left tossing, dismasted, and helpless, now that a calm had come. Here, too, was the friendly consort offering her aid to lead him into port--the port that he had hoped to enter gallantly, with ensign flowing. But now, as this was impossible, he would let matters take their course.

He met Sir Philip Vining at dinner; and though the old gentleman studiously avoided all allusion thereto, yet he marked the change in his son, and was inwardly delighted thereby.

"Father," said Charley, as they sat over their wine, "I'm about tired of town. When shall we go back home--home--home?" he said, repeating the word. "How pleasant that seems to sound!"

"My dear boy, when you like; to-morrow, Charley, if you wish." And the old gentleman spoke earnestly, for of late his heart had pricked him sorely; and had his son now brought Ella to his side and said, "Father, I shall never love another; this must be my wife," he would have struggled with himself, and then given up and blessed them. But now it seemed that there was a change; the attentions to Laura had been marked; and, hushing his conscience, the old man told himself that matters would soon come right after all, and he spoke cheerfully.

"Well, let's go back to-morrow, then," said Charley. "I want to see the old place again."

"You are not ill, Charley--you don't feel in need of advice?"

"Ill?" said Charley, "not at all! I want a change, and to see the old place."

"By the way, Charley, Bray called here to-day; he wanted me to dine there again, but I declined, as you said you would be back. I said, though, that I would go up in the evening. We are discussing the drainage question of Holt Moors. You will not mind my leaving you. I thought, too, that perhaps--"

"I would go too," said Charley smilingly. "Well, yes, I've no objection; little Nell is come back. Do you know, dad," he said cheerfully, "I should like to give that girl a nice little well-broken mare? She would ride splendidly. Couldn't we pick up something before we go down, and let it be for a surprise? A nice little thing that would hunt well, without pulling the child's arms off."

"My dear Charley, you give me great pleasure, you do indeed. We'll see about it first thing in the morning. My dear boy," exclaimed the old man, rising, and crossing to his son's chair to rest his hands upon his broad shoulder, "Heaven bless you, my dear boy! Are the old times coming back?"

"I hope so, father," said Charley, smiling; but there was something very sad in his tone.

"Not in that way, my dear boy," said the old man tenderly. "Indeed, indeed, Charley, my every act and desire has been for your good."

"Father," said Charley sternly, "do you see that?" And he made a mark on the white cloth.

"My dear boy, yes."

"That must divide the past from the present. All on that side is to be forgotten. Let it be as if dead. Now for the clean blank page of the future."

He held out his hand, which was eagerly taken by Sir Philip, and then they were silent for some time; when, in quite changed tones, Charley said, looking at his watch, "Eight o'clock, dad! Shall I ring for a cab?"

Sir Philip did not speak; he only bowed his head, and then wringing his son's hand, he left the room.

Volume 3, Chapter IV.

OF WHAT ARE MEN'S HEARTS COMPOSED?

"Hooray, here's Charley Vining!" cried Nelly, as Sir Philip and his son entered the Brays' drawing-room; and bounding over the carpet, she ran up, and caught the latter by the hand; but as Charley shook both her thin hands warmly, he glanced across the room to where Laura was standing, flushed and happy.

"Are you better?" he said, as he crossed over.

"Better? yes," she said softly; "and so happy!"

There was such a look of intensified joy in Laura's face, that as he took his seat beside her, Charley Vining smiled pleasantly. He was accepting his fate.

And why not, he asked himself, when, with all their eccentricities, the family seemed ready to worship him? Sir Philip and Mr Bray had no sooner taken their places in a corner of the lesser drawing-room, and commenced their discussion upon the projected improvements, than Mrs Bray crossed over to where Charley was seated, and probably for the first time in her life forbore to shriek, and, leaning over him, actually whispered, as she stooped and kissed him on the forehead.

"Bless you, Vining! you have made us all so happy! But I have not said a word to him."

Charley felt disposed to frown; but there was a genuine mother's tear left upon his forehead, and he pressed Mrs Bray's hand as she left him, carrying off Nelly at the same time.

It was all settled, then; it was to be. And why not? Let it be so, then. Some people said there was no fate in these things; what, then, was this, if it were not fate?

But he accepted it all, asking himself the while, could the gentle tremulous woman at his side be the Laura of old? How she drank in his every glance, eagerly listening for each word! Could he, as he had said he would, thoroughly dismiss the past, life might, after all, be endurable.

So he reasoned, as the evening passed away.

They had had tea, and Nelly had been sent to the piano to play piece after piece, not one of which was listened to, for those present were intent upon their own affairs. Charley talked in a low voice to Laura, Mrs Bray dozed in an easy-chair, and Nelly kept to her music.

Meanwhile the question of draining Holt Moors had been discussed and rediscussed. Farming matters had been talked over, and the state of Blandfield Park; Mr Bray strongly advising a particular breed of sheep for keeping the grass short and lawnlike, giving his opinions freely, and at the same time listening with deference to those of his old friend.

At last, during a pause, Sir Philip caught Mr Bray's eye, and nodded towards the other room.

"That's a picture, Bray!" he said. "Ah," said Mr Bray, as he gazed for a few moments at where--a noble-looking couple--Charley and Laura sat together in the soft light shed by the lamps, "I wish, Vining, I had had such a son. It seems hard to speak against one's own flesh and blood, but my Max--"

He did not finish his sentence, but shrugged his shoulders, laughing pleasantly, as tall thin Nelly came and rested her weak loose body against his shoulder, before laying her cheek against his bald head, afterwards polishing the shiny white hemisphere with her little hand, rubbing it round and round, round and round; while, apparently approving thereof, Papa Bray drew his child upon his knee, and went on talking.

But suddenly he ceased; for, rising, and with her hand in his, and one arm round her waist, Charley Vining walked with Laura towards where the old men sat, and Nelly, with the tears in her eyes, glided away to the seat just vacated.

"Mr Bray--father," said Charley quietly, as he stopped in front of them, "Laura has promised to be my wife: have you any objection?"

The next moment Sir Philip Vining had folded Laura in his arms, kissing her lovingly, as Mr Bray caught Charley's hands in his, shaking them warmly.

"My dear boy," he exclaimed, "you make me very proud--happiest day of my life!"

"Charley, my son," said Sir Philip, stretching out one hand to take his son's, and speaking in a voice that showed how he was moved, "thank you, thank you; you have made me very happy."

Half an hour after, they were leave-taking; and as Charley kissed Nelly and bade her warmly "good-night," there was a tear left upon his lips.

"What, little one!" he said gaily, "in trouble? What is it? You don't think I've jilted you, do you?"

"Don't talk stuff, Charley!" she said gravely. "I'm very happy; but I feel like marble--just as if there were dark veins running all through me."

"Marble? veins?" said Charley in a puzzled tone.

"Yes; dark veins, like sorrowful thoughts; for though I'm very glad that you are going to be my own dear brother--and something like a brother too!--I can't help feeling sorry about my poor Miss Bedford."

Charley started from her as if he had been stung; but no one but Nelly noticed it. Five minutes after, Sir Philip and he were in the Brays' carriage, and on their way home, for Mr Bray had insisted upon their having it in place of a cab.

There was no farther talk of going back to Blandfield Court till the Brays left town next week, and to all intents and purposes the Vinings lived in Harley-street. But Charley found time for a visit to Mr Whittrick, to see if there was any payment due.

"Happy to attend upon you, if you require my services again, Mr Vining," he said, as he pocketed a cheque; and then he bowed his client out.

It was that same morning that, returning to lunch in Harley-street, Charley found Laura seated frowningly over a note, which she made as if to conceal upon his entrance; but directly after, as if blushing for her weakness, she stood up, holding the letter in her hand.

"Am I to be jealous?" he said laughingly, as he saluted her.

"I was afraid it might hurt your feelings, Charley," she said, as her arms were resting on his shoulder. "Can you bear to hear its contents? It is from Max."

"Yes," said Charley moodily, and with the veins in his forehead swelling.

"He asks me to try and mediate--to try and make you think less angrily of him."

"Where is he?" said Charley abruptly.

"I do not know," said Laura. "Somewhere in the west of England. The postmark is Plymouth."

"Laura," said Charley sternly, "I cannot forgive him. Max and I must never meet! Don't look so serious--I cannot help it. I am, I know, hard and unrelenting--But there, no tears! Why, you are trembling. I am not angry."

"No, no; I know you are not," she whispered, nestling closer to him. "You must not be. I shall be so glad to get down to the old place again."

"And I as well," said Charley.

And, probably in deference to their wishes, both families started on the following day for their country seats.

Volume 3, Chapter V.

PREPARING THE RIVETS.

"_Con_-gratulate you, my dear Vining! do, indeed," said Hugh Lingon, coming up to Charley in the hunting-field, when he had been home about a fortnight.

"What about?" said Charley, who had attended every meet, and tried his best to break his neck as he rode straight, taking everything that came in his way.

"What about?" said Lingon. "Why, about your coming marriage, to be sure. Haven't seen you before, or I should have given you a word or two. Rather too bad of Laura Bray, though."

"What was?" said Charley very impatiently.

"Why, making such a pair of tongs of me, with which to fish for her hot roast chestnut--meaning you, of course, Charley," said Lingon, with a laugh.

"Don't be a fool!" said Charley gruffly.

"Not if I can help it," said Lingon good-humouredly. "But you know how I was made a fool of, and then pitched over at any time, when your sultanship thought proper to be attentive."

"Long time finding a fox this morning," said Charley impatiently, as he turned his horse along by the side of a spinney. But Hugh Lingon was not to be shaken off, and trotting up to his side, fat and good-tempered, he talked on.

"I should have expected that you'd have given up all this sort of thing now, old fellow," said Lingon; "but I suppose you are having your run out before the knot is tied. I say, though, how well Laura looks!"

"Does she?" said Charley absently; and it was very evident from his quiet abstracted manner, that he was thinking upon other matters.

"Does she! Ah, I think so. But mind you, I've an idea that Nelly will grow into a handsomer woman altogether. I like Nelly," he added simply.

"So do I," said Charley, starting from his reverie. "She's a lovable girl."

"I say, young man," exclaimed Lingon, "that won't do; you can't have them both."

"Pish!" exclaimed Charley, putting the spurs to his mare. "There, I'm going on. Good-morning, Lingon."

"But I'm going your way, Charley," cried the other, spurring up alongside. "Don't be in such a hurry, man! It isn't often one sees you now. I want to know when it's to be. Our girls are sure to ask me, for they're all red-hot about it."

"When what's to be?" said Charley, with a wondering gaze.

"O, come, I say, now, that's a good un!" laughed Hugh Lingon, till his fat face was full of creases and rolls, some of which threatened to close his little twinkling eyes. "Going to be married, and got it all settled, and not know the day! Ha, ha, ha! Charley Vining, that is a good one! I do like that!" And he gave his friend a hearty slap on the back. "Come, I say, tell us, old fellow!"

"This day month, I believe--there!" said Charley viciously; and again he essayed to leave his friend behind.

"By the way, Charley," said Hugh, continuing alongside, "I want you to do me a favour."

He spoke so earnestly, that the other drew rein and turned to him.

"What is it?" he said.

"Well, I hardly like to ask you, but just now I'm in a fix."

"Well, but what is it? How do you mean?" said Charley.

"Well, you see, I'm short of money, and I'm a good deal bothered; for I'd promised to pay my tailor, and now I can't do it."

"How much do you want?" said Charley quietly. "I've none here; but I'll draw you a cheque when I get home."

"O! I'm much obliged--I _am_, 'pon my word!" said Lingon. "Don't I wish, though, that I could draw cheques, and come that sort of thing! I'm quite ashamed to ask you. But it isn't my fault; for you see I had the money, and was going to send it, when who should pop down but Max Bray, and ask me to lend it to him--five-and-twenty pounds, you know. He wanted fifty; but of course that was out of my reach altogether. I lent him all I had, though; for he said that he should only want it for two days, when he'd be sure and send it back. Nelly's brother, too, you see, so that I couldn't well refuse him."

Hugh Lingon did not see the black angry look upon Charley's face, and he went on.

"He went to the governor after he left me, and got fifty pounds out of him; so I found out this morning when I went into the study to see if I could raise the wind myself, for I had an awful dunning letter from my tailor for breakfast, and there was the governor in no end of a rage-- put on that grand magisterial air of his, and begins to talk to me like he does to the clodhoppers who have been having a drunk and a fight. And, lo and behold, it comes out that Mr Max promised to send his back the next day without fail; and the governor swears he'll make old Bray pay up, if Max doesn't answer his last letter, for he has written three, and had no reply. The last one he read me the copy of--all about ungentlemanly dishonourable behaviour, and so on. I believe the old chap would like to commit him for obtaining money under false pretences. But, I say, don't run away, Charley. I may come and have the cheque, mayn't I? for it's of no use to try the governor again till Max Bray has paid up."

"Yes, yes; come when you like!" cried Charley, turning and breasting his mare at a high hedge on the left, which the gallant beast cleared, but with hardly an inch to spare; and then they went crashing through the copse, and were out of sight in a minute.

"Well, that's one way of giving a fellow the go-by!" muttered Hugh Lingon. "Why? I wouldn't try that leap for five hundred pounds! nor would any one else who had the least regard for his neck. What did he fire-up about as soon as I mentioned Max Bray's name? By Jove, though, as Max says, he don't seem highly delighted about his good fortune!"

Other people made the same remark about Charley Vining, and also noticed how hard he hunted, riding in the most reckless way imaginable, but always seeming to escape free of harm, when more cautious riders met with the customary croppers, bruises, contusions, and broken limbs.

Volume 3, Chapter VI.

HAD SHE WON?

It was one of the things generally known in the neighbourhood of Blandfield, that Sir Philip Vining gave up the Court to his son, who, in a very short time, was to confer upon it a new mistress in the shape of Laura Bray.

Every one said that it was an admirable match; and old ladies, who had set themselves up for prophets, laughed and nodded together, and reminded one another of how they had always said so. That croquet-party at the Court was not for nothing, they knew!

Then came a round of congratulatory calls, and a general disposition amongst the callers to declare that they had never heard of anything that had given them more pleasure.

"Really," they said, "it was exquisite, and just the thing that was wanted to make the Lexville circle complete. For, you see, Sir Philip was indeed most charming, but he gave so few dinner-parties!"

"But what Charles Vining could see in that great, tall, coarse woman, when there were my nice quiet gentle girls, I don't know. But there, every eye forms its own beauty!"

So said Mrs Lingon; and, in fact, allowing for a little variety, so said every mother of marriageable daughters; but all the same, at the end of a fortnight Laura Bray was to be Mrs Charles, and in future Lady Vining, always allowing, of course, that nothing occurred to put off the wedding, that every one declared to be, on the whole, rather hurried.

There was certainly, too, a little disappointment felt by some of the marriageable young ladies; but that was soon mastered: for there was to be the wedding, after all, if they were not to be the principals in the thrilling ceremony; and also, after all, there was not one of them who might not be asked to act as bridesmaid.

It was the theme of discussion throughout the district. Even gentlemen had their say, as they hoped that Vining wouldn't be so shabby as to cut off his subs. to the hounds, even if he had no more idea of hunting. While, as for the ladies, they knew to an inch how many yards of white gros-de-Naples there would be in Laura's wedding-dress; how many breadths there would be in the skirt; and that Miss Bray had decided not to have it gored.

"And quite right too," said some with a titter, "with such a figure as she has!"

"Don't you think Laura Bray looks quite yellow and thin?" said the elder Miss Lingon, who was certainly neither yellow nor thin, but very plump, fair, and dumplingy.

"O, decidedly!" said her sister. "She looks anxious and worried, too."

"Well, no wonder," said the elder Miss Lingon, with a sigh. "Any stupid would know that it is a most anxious and trying time for her. She is about to take a step which--"

"There's not much fear of your taking, Miss Fan," said her sister spitefully. "And how you should know anything about its being an anxious time, I'm sure I don't know, without you read it in a book."

The elder Miss Lingon tossed her head.

"But I know why she's anxious," said the second Miss Lingon. "Hugh told me. It's because he will hunt so recklessly now."

"I don't believe that's it. All gentlemen hunt," said the other.

"You can believe what you like," was the snappish answer. And there the matter dropped, as each lady waited anxiously for the request that should make her a bridesmaid.

But, all the same, Laura did look thin and anxious. Not that Charley Vining was wanting in attention, for he was constantly at the Elms; but there was a great dread always oppressing her, that the wedding would not take place. Each day that passed without adventure, she reckoned as so much gained; and though Miss l'Aiguille was engaged with her staff especially on Miss Bray's account, and dresses for bride and bridesmaids were in rapid progress, yet would Laura start at the slightest sound, and tremble as every letter came to the house.

She counted the days and the hours that must intervene, and mentally checked them off as they passed away. She clung nervously to Charley as he left her at night, and seemed loth to let him leave her, though he smiled at her anxiety and tried to seem happy, but all the while there was an aching void in his heart, as he told himself that he was about to be guilty of a wrongful act.

And still the time glided on. A few more days, and Laura told herself that she could be at rest.

"At rest?" She shivered as she repeated the words, and then tried to look pleased at the rich presents sent by Sir Philip Vining, or brought to her by Charley himself to swell the bridal trousseau.

But she could not conceal the agitation she felt; for ever, by night and day, thrown athwart the light of her understanding was the dark shadow of a peril to come--a peril coming as surely as day would succeed unto night.

Costly preparations at Blandfield Court; painters and decorators busy; fresh carpets here, and fresh carpets there; Laura fetched over by Sir Philip to give her opinion upon this, her consent to that, or to choose something else. The old gentleman seemed never happy save when he was superintending some fresh arrangement that should add to the pleasure and comfort of his fixture daughter-in-law. He was almost angry at times on seeing how little interest was taken in such matters by his son; but ever ready with an excuse, he set it down to Charley's renewed pleasure in the sports of the field.

Laura did not complain, although Nelly, but for her youth, might have been taken for the favoured one, since she was constantly Charley's companion, to the great astonishment of Hugh Lingon. For the little well-broken mare had been purchased, and had come down to Blandfield, where, one day when Nelly was over with her sister, Charley proposed a ride, the horses were brought round, and Nelly's rough black pony sent back, to her utter astonishment; while, when informed that the graceful little creature that stood arching its neck, and softly pawing at the gravel, was her own, Nelly's joy knew no bounds, as, in turns, she literally smothered Sir Philip and Charley with kisses.

It was not from mortification at being so unceremoniously left that Laura turned pale; but, in her nervous state, it seemed that the danger she apprehended--the peril that should stay the wedding--might come from any direction, and that a delay of a month, a fortnight, or even of a week, might be fatal to her prospects; for might not Charley alter his mind? or--no, there was no fear of that now. But might not this prove a danger that should delay that which she so ardently prayed for? Nelly might meet with an accident, and be brought back half-killed.

There was certainly some foundation for Laura's fears; for had Miss Nelly been left to herself, in her wild exhilaration she would most probably have come to grief; in fact she tried her best to get thrown; but there was ever a strong hand ready to be laid upon her rein, so that, in spite of Laura's forebodings, she was brought back in safety.

Laura counted: six days--five days--four days--three days before--two days before--one day before the wedding; and all this time Max Bray might have been forgotten, for his name was never once mentioned at the Elms. Hugh Lingon, though, on making an excuse for not having repaid Charley's loan, mentioned having felt sure that he had seen Max in London, but that he had been unable to overtake him before he disappeared, but that, after all, he was not sure.

That news slightly disturbed Charley, and he winced as he thought upon the probable future fate of Ella Bedford; his brow contracted too, as he seemed to see a pale face appealing to him for help, and he shuddered slightly as he drove away the thoughts.

He spent the evening with Sir Philip at the Elms, and all seemed to be working to the one end.

Nelly was in a tremendous state of excitement, and displayed it as she darted about with brightened eye and flushed cheek; but now that the time was so near, Laura had so nerved herself that she was calm and composed in appearance, though her heart was agitated by varied emotions.

But what cause could there be for fear? Had not the woman who had been her rival fled, in, apparently, a most discreditable manner, with her own brother? Was not Charles Vining, if not a warm and passionate, at all events a most respectable lover as to his attentions? Surely she could wish for nothing more, if the proverb be true, that the hottest love the soonest cools.

And, besides, how gleefully were all the preparations being made! Gunters were providing the breakfast, and even then the men were in the house. The wedding garments were waiting, and Miss l'Aiguille was coming herself in the morning to superintend the dressing, to the great disgust of Laura's maid. The wedding was expected to be one of the grandest that had been in the neighbourhood for some years; and the weather had been for many days past so settled and bright, that there was every prospect of the bride being bathed in the sunshine of good fortune.

"Good-night, for the last parting!" said Charley, as he held Laura in his arms, previous to taking his departure; and she clung to him, for he was more tender and gentle to her.

He must love her, she felt, or he could not have spoken as he had.

Only a few more hours, then, and the suspense would be at an end. The wedding-breakfast over, dresses changed, the carriage would be in waiting to convey them to the station. They were to pass the first night in London, and depart by tidal boat the next morning for Paris, Marseilles, Hyeres, Genoa, Rome--a month of pleasant touring in Southern Europe; and in that period old sorrows would be forgotten, and her husband's heart would have warmed to her.

But still Laura trembled, for she had been gambling for a great stake.

Had she won?

It seemed so; for once more he repeated those words, "Good-night, for the last parting!" as they stood in the hall.

"But you'll have to put up with me, my dear!" said Sir Philip, kissing Laura in his turn; "but I won't bother you--I won't interfere in any way--only let me have my study fire in the cold weather; and don't stop away from home too long. I say so now, because I shall have no chance to-morrow. There, good-bye!"

They were gone; and, proud and elate, Laura returned to the drawing-room. The victory was nearly won, and the happy congratulatory looks of friends and those who were to act as her bridesmaids seemed to be mirrored in her face, as they clustered laughingly round her--Mrs Bray forbearing to shriek, and little pudgy Mr Bray disregarding her evening dress as he caught her in his arms, to give her a sounding kiss on either cheek.