Chapter IV: A Retrospect (2)

"See here, mistress!" he said. "You don't seem to rejoice in this news. What is the matter with you? Have any of these English foplings and lordlings, with more peers in their pedigrees than pennies in their pockets, turned your head? If so, it is time for me to take you home."

Cora did not reply. Only the night before, at the ball given by the Marchioness of Netherby, the Duke of Cumbervale had proposed to her, and had been referred to her grandfather. He was coming that very morning to ask the hand of the supposed heiress of the Iron King. Cora was that very day intending to write to Rule and tell him the whole truth, and ask him to release her from her engagement; and she knew full well that he would have no alternative but to grant her request.

"Why do you not answer me, Corona? What is the matter with you?" again demanded old Aaron Rockharrt.

But at that moment a waiter entered, and laid a card on the table before the old gentleman. He took it up and read:

THE DUKE OF CUMBERVALE.

"What in the deuce does the young fellow want of me? Show him into the parlor, William, and say that I will be with him in a few minutes."

The waiter left the room to do his errand, and was soon followed by Mr. Rockharrt, who found the young duke pacing rather restlessly up and down the room.

"Good morning, sir," said old Aaron, with stiff politeness.

The visitor turned and saluted his host.

"Will you not be seated?" said Mr. Rockharrt, waving his hand toward sofa and chairs.

The visitor bowed and sat down. The host took another chair and waited. There was silence for a short time. The old man seemed expectant, the young man embarrassed. At length, when the latter opened his mouth and spoke, no pearls and diamonds of wisdom and goodness dropped from his lips; he said:

"It is a fine day."

"Yes, yes," admitted the Iron King, taking his hands from his knees, and drawing himself up with the sigh of a man badly bored--"for London. We wouldn't call this a fine day in America. But I have heard it said that it is always a fine day in England when it don't pour."

"Yes," admitted the visitor; and then he driveled into the most inane talk about climates, for you see this was the first time the poor young fellow had ever ventured to

"Beard the lion in his den,"

so to speak, by asking: a stern old gentleman for a daughter's hand, and this Iron King was a very formidable-looking beast indeed.

At length, Mr. Rockharrt, feeling sure that his visitor had come upon business--though he did not know of what sort--said:

"I think, sir, that you are here upon some affairs. If it is about railway shares--"

The old man was stopped short by the surprised and insolent stare of the young duke.

"I know nothing of railway shares, sir," he answered.

"Oh, you don't! Well, I did not think you did. In what other way can I oblige you?"

Indignation generally deprives a man of self-possession, but on this occasion it restored that of the embarrassed lover. Feeling that he--the descendant of a dozen dukes, whose ancestors had "come over with William the Conqueror," had served in Palestine under King Richard, had compelled King John to sign the Magna Charta, had gained glory in every generation--was about to do this rude, purse-proud old tradesman the greatest honor in asking of him his granddaughter in marriage, he said, somewhat coldly:

"Miss Haught has made me happy in the hope of her acceptance of my hand, pending your approval, and has referred me to you."

The Iron King stared at the speaker for a moment, and then said, quite calmly:

"Please to repeat that all over again, slowly and distinctly."

The duke flushed to the edges of his hair, but he repeated his proposal in plain words.

"You have asked Cora Haught to marry you?" demanded the Iron King.

"Yes, sir."

"What did she say?"

"She did me the honor to give me some hope, and she referred me to you, as I have already explained."

"I don't believe it!" blurted the old man.

"Sir!" said the duke, in a low voice.

"I don't believe it! What! My granddaughter--mine--break her faith and wish to marry some one else?"

"Mr. Rockharrt," began the duke, in a smooth tone--though his blood was hot with anger--"I am sorry you should so forget the--"

"I forget nothing. I remember that you charge my granddaughter--mine--with unfaithfulness! It is an insult, sir!"

"Really, Mr. Rockharrt, I do not understand you."

"I don't suppose you do! I never gave your order much credit for intelligence."

Is this old ruffian mad or drunk? was the secret question of the duke, whose tone and manner, always calm and polite, grew even calmer and more polite as the Iron King grew more sarcastic and insulting.

"I would suggest that you speak to Miss Haught on this subject, that she may confirm my statement," he said.

"I shall do nothing of the kind! I shall not entertain for an instant the thought of the possibility of my granddaughter breaking her plighted faith."

"I never knew that she was engaged. May I ask the name of the happy man?"

"Regulas Rothsay; he is not a duke; he is a printer; also a senator, and nominated for governor of his native State; sure to be elected, and then he is to marry my granddaughter, who has been engaged to him many years."

"But Miss Haught certainly authorized me to ask her hand of you."

When did this extraordinary acceptance take place?"

"Yesterday evening, at Lady Netherby's ball."

"After supper?"

"After supper."

"That accounts for it! You took too much wine, and misunderstood my granddaughter's reply She must have referred you to me for an explanation of her engagement, and consequent inability to entertain any other man's proposal. That was it!"

"May I refer you to Miss Haught for confirmation of my words?"

"I say, as I said before, no."

"May I see the young lady herself?"

"No; but I will tell you something that may console you under your disappointment. I have seen in several of your papers, in the society columns, my granddaughter referred to as my sole heiress. I do not know who is responsible for these reports, but you may have believed them, though there is not a word of truth in them. My granddaughter is not my sole heiress; not my heiress in the slightest degree. I have two stalwart sons, partners in my business, both now in charge of the works at North End, Cumberland mountains, and managing them extremely well, else I could not be taking a long holiday here. These sons are heirs to all my property. Nor is my granddaughter the heiress of her late father. She has a brother, now a cadet at our military academy at West Point. He inherits the bulk of his father's estate. My granddaughter's fortune is, therefore, very moderate--quite beneath the consideration of an English nobleman," concluded the old man, very grimly.

The young duke heard him out, and then answered;

"I trust, sir, that you will credit me with better motives in seeking the hand of the young lady. It was her charm of person and of mind that attracted me to her."

"Of course, of course; but, my dear duke, there is a plenty of sole heiresses among the wealthy trades-people of London who would be proud to buy a title with a fortune. Let me advise you to strike a bargain with one of them. Now, as I have pressing business on hand, you will excuse me."

The young duke arose, with a bow, and left the room, muttering to himself: "What an unmitigated beast that old man is! I do like the girl; she is a beautiful creature, but--I am well out of it after all."

Old Aaron Rockharrt made no false pretense of business to get rid of his unwelcome visitor; he never made false pretense of any sort for any purpose. He had pressing business on hand, though it was business which had suddenly arisen during his interview with the duke, and had in fact come out of it. No sooner had the young man left the house than the Iron King went to the agency of the Cunard line, and secured staterooms for himself and party in the Asia, that was to sail on the following Saturday from Liverpool for New York.

When he re-entered his parlor at the Langham, he found his wife and Cora seated there, the girl reading the _Court Journal_ to her grandmother.

"Put that tomfoolery down, Cora, and listen to me, both of you! This is Wednesday. We leave London for Liverpool on Friday morning, and sail from Liverpool for New York on Saturday. So you sent that man to me, mistress?"

"Yes, sir," without looking up.

"For my consent to a marriage with him!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then the fellow did not mistake your meaning! Cora Haught! I could not have believed that any girl who had any of my blood in her veins could be guilty of such black treachery as to break faith with her betrothed husband, and wish to marry another, just for the snobbish ambition to be a duchess and be called 'her grace'!" said the Iron King, with all the sardonic scorn and hatred of any form of falsehood that was the one redeeming trait in his hard and cruel nature.

"Grandpa, it was not so! Indeed, it was not! Oh, consider! I had known Rule Rothsay from my childhood, and loved him with the affection a sister gives a brother; I knew of no other love, and so I mistook it for the love surpassing all others that a betrothed maiden should give her betrothed. But when I met Cumbervale and he wooed me, I loved truly for the first time! loved, as he loves me!" she concluded, with trembling lips and downcast eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Stuff and nonsense! Don't talk to me about love or any such sentimental trash! I am talking of good faith between man and woman--words of which you don't seem to know the meaning!"

"Oh, grandpa! yes, I do! But would it be good faith in me to marry Rule Rothsay, when I love Cumbervale?"

"It would be good faith to keep your word, irrespective of your feelings, and bad faith to break it in consideration of your feelings! But you are too false to know this!"

"Oh, sir! pray do not set your face against my marriage with Cumbervale, or insist on my marrying Rule! It would not be for Rule's good," pleaded Cora.

"No; Heaven knows it would not be for his good! It had been better for Rothsay that he had been blown up in the explosion that killed his father, than that he had ever set eyes on your false face! But you have given him your word, and you must keep it, or never look me in the face again! You shall be married as soon as we reach Rockhold."

Cora raised her tearful face from her hands, and looked astonished and wretched.

"Oh, you may gaze, but it is true. The fortune hunter has discovered that he is on a false scent. There is no fortune on the trail. I told him everything about you. I told him that you were not my heiress at all, because I had two sons who would inherit all my property; that you were not even your father's heiress, because you had a brother who would inherit the larger portion of his; that, in point of fact, you were only moderately provided for. He was startled, I assure you. I also told him that for years you had been engaged to a young printer in your native country, who would probably be the next governor of his native State. He bowed himself out. I engaged our passage to New York by the Saturday's steamer. You will never see the little dandy again. He was after a fortune, and finding that you have none, he has forsaken you--and served you right, for a base, treacherous, and contemptible woman, unworthy even of his regard; for you are much lower in every way than he is, for while he was seeking a fortune and you were seeking a title, you were concealing from him the fact of your engagement to Rule Rothsay. You were doubly false to Rule and to Cumbervale. Oh, Cora Haught! Cora Haught! Are you not ashamed of yourself! Ashamed to look any honest man or woman in the face! Ah! you do well to hide yours!" he concluded, for Cora had lost all self-control, dropped her head upon her hands, and burst into hysterical sobs and tears.

Did you ever see a small bantam hen ruffle up all her feathers in angry defense of her chick? So did poor little, timid Mrs. Rockharrt in protection of her pet. She ventured to expostulate with her tyrant for, perhaps, the first time in their married life.

"Oh, Aaron, do not scold the child so severely. She is but human. She has only been dazzled and fascinated by the young duke's rank, and beauty, and elegance. She could not help it, being thrown in his company so much. And you know they say that half the girls in London society are in love with the handsome duke. We will take her home, and she will come all right, and be our own, dear, faithful Cora again, and--"

Old Aaron Rockharrt, who had gazed at his wife in speechless astonishment at her audacity in reasoning with him, now burst forth with:

"Hold your jaw, madam," and strode out of the room.

A minute later a waiter came in and laid a note on the table before Cora and immediately withdrew.

Cora took the missive, recognized the handwriting and seal, tore it open and eagerly ran her eyes along the lines. This was the note:

CUMBERVALE LODGE, LONDON,
May, 1, 18--

MISS HAUGHT: For my indiscretion of last evening I owe
you an humble apology, which I beg you to accept with this
explanation, that, had I known, or even suspected, that your hand
was already promised in another quarter, I should never have
presumed to propose for it. I beg now to withdraw such a false
step.

Accept my best wishes for your happiness in a union with the more
fortunate man of your choice, and believe me to be now and ever,

Your obedient servant,

CUMBERVALE.

Scarcely had Cora's eyes fallen from the paper when Lady Pendragon's carriage drove up to the door.

Glad of the interruption that enabled her to escape from the parlor, and give way to the passion and grief and despair that were swelling her heart to breaking, Cora hastened to her bed chamber and threw herself down upon the couch in a paroxysm of sobs and tears.

Mrs. Rockharrt waited in the parlor to receive the visitor, but no visitor came up. Only two cards were left for the two ladies, and then the Countess of Pendragon rolled away in her carriage.

On Friday morning the Rockharrts left London. And on Saturday morning they sailed from Liverpool. After a prosperous voyage of ten days they landed at New York.

"My soul! there is Rothsay on the pier, waving his hand to us!" exclaimed the Iron King, as he led his little wife down the gang plank, while Cora came on behind them.

Yes; there was Rule, his tall figure towering above the crowd on the pier, his rugged face beaming with delight, his hand waving welcome to the returning voyagers. He received his friends as they stepped upon the pier. He shook hands warmly with Mrs. Rockharrt, heartily with the Iron King, and then, behind them, with Cora, and before Cora knew what was coming she was folded in the arms and to the faithful breast of her life-long lover--only for a moment; and then he drew her arm within his own and led her on after the elder couple, whispering:

"Dear, this is the happiest day I have ever seen as yet, but a happier one is coming--soon, I hope. Dear, how soon shall it be?"

"You must ask my grandparents, Rule. Their judgment and their convenience must be consulted," she answered in a low, steady tone.

She had no thought now of breaking her engagement with Rule, though her heart seemed breaking. She still loved that rugged man with the sisterly affection she had always felt for him, and which, in her ignorance of life and self, she had mistaken for a warmer sentiment, and resolved, in wedding him, to do her whole duty by him for so long as she should live, and she hoped and believed that that would not be very long.

Rothsay led the way to a carriage. When all were seated in this, the old man leant toward the young one, and said:

"Well, I haven't had a chance to ask you yet. The election is over. How did it go? Who is their man?"

"They chose me," answered Rothsay, simply.

Cora Haught's bosom was wrung by hopeless passion and piercing remorse.

Yet she tried to do her whole duty.

"If it craze or kill me I will wed Rule, and he shall never know what it costs me to keep my word," she said to herself, as she lay sleepless and restless in her bed on the night before her wedding morn. "Yes; I will do my duty and keep my secret even unto death."

"'Even unto death!' but unto whose death?" whispered a voice close to her ear--a voice clear, distinct, penetrating.

Cora started and opened her eyes. No one was near her. She sat up in bed, and looked around the apartment. The night taper, standing on the hearth, burned low. The dimly lighted room was vacant of any human being except herself.

"I have been dreaming," she said, and she laid down and tried to compose herself to sleep again. In vain! Memories of the near past, dread of the nearer future, contended in her soul, filling her with discord. When Cora arose on her wedding morning, she said to herself:

"Yes, this day I am going to marry Rule, dear, loving, faithful, hard-working, self-denying Rule! A monarch among men, if greatness of soul could make a monarch. In that sense no woman, peeress or princess, ever made a prouder match. May Heaven make me worthier of him! May Heaven help me to be a true, good wife to him!"

She said these words to herself, but oh! oh! how she shuddered as she breathed them, and how she reproached herself for such shuddering! The girl's whole nature was at war with itself. Yet through all the terrible interior strife she kept her firm determination to be faithful to Rule; to go through the ordeal before her, even though it should cost her life or reason.

The external circumstances of this wedding were given in the first chapter, and need not be repeated here.

My readers may remember the marble-like stillness of the bride as she sat in her bridal robes, looking out from the front window of her chamber on the bright and festive scene below, where all the work people from the mines and foundries were assembled; they will remember how she shivered when she was summoned with her bridesmaids to meet her bridegroom and his attendants in the hall below; how when she met him at the foot of the stairs she shrank from his greeting--emotion in which he in his simple, loyal soul saw no repugnance, but only maiden reserve to be reverenced, as he drew her arm within his own to lead her before the bishop; how she faltered during the whole of the marriage ceremony; how like a woman in a trance she passed through the scenes of the wedding breakfast and those that immediately followed it; how in her own room, where she went to change her wedding dress for a traveling suit, and whither her gentle old grandmother had followed her for a private parting, she had answered the old lady's anxious question as to whether she was "happy," first by silence and then by muttering that her heart was too full for speech; how when the bridegroom and the bride had taken leave of all their friends at Rockhold, and were seated _tete-a-tete_ in their traveling carriage, bowling along the river road, at the base of the East Ridge toward the North End railway station, when he passed his arm around her and drew her to his heart and murmured of his love and his joy in her ear, and pleaded for some response from her, she had only said that her heart was too full for speech, and he in his confiding spirit had perceived no evasion in her reply, but thought, if her heart was full, it was with responsive love for him.

My readers will recollect the railway journey to the State capital; the procession through the decorated streets between the crowded sidewalks from the railway station to the town house of Mr. Rockharrt, which had been placed at the disposal of the governor-elect for the interval between his arrival in the State capital and his inauguration.

The committee of reception escorted them to the gates of the Rockharrt mansion and left them at the door. There we also left them, in the second chapter of this story--and there we return to them in this place.