Chapter XIV: Apley Hall

At first it seemed almost impossible to Sidney that he could bear the constant presence of Rachel Goldsmith, and the intimate relationship that existed between her and his wife. There were tones in her voice which startled him by recalling Sophy's; and now and then she used local terms and provincialisms which he had never heard anyone utter but Sophy. There was a strong resemblance, too, between them; for Rachel's face was what Sophy's might have grown to be in middle life. It shocked him afresh when he caught sight of it unexpectedly. But it had been agreed before their marriage that Margaret must not be separated from her father; and for the present they were all living together in the house Colonel Cleveland rented on Wimbledon Common. Rachel Goldsmith was even more essential to the comfort and tranquillity of Colonel Cleveland as his nurse, than she was to Margaret's happiness as her maid. It would be impossible to displace her; it might be easier to remove Margaret to a dwelling place of their own.

But as time passed by he grew more accustomed to her presence, and it ceased to chafe him.

Rachel opened her heart to her young lady's husband, and her manner toward him was one of admiration and deference. Her somewhat sad face brightened when he spoke to her; and her smile was a sweet one, more in the eyes than on the lips. Now and then the thought occurred to him--that if Sophy had lived this woman would have come under his roof as a near relation. But Sidney possessed an affectionate nature, capable of taking a very real interest in many persons; even if insignificant persons. This woman, Margaret's maid and Sophy's aunt, had a claim upon him which he could not ignore. Besides, he had resolved before his second marriage that his future life should be a noble one; worthy of Margaret's love and faith in him. It would be a most unworthy act to add to the unknown injury he had inflicted on Rachel Goldsmith--the further sorrow of separating her from Margaret, whom she loved as her own child.

It was part of the penance he had to pay for his boyish fault; that fault of which he had repented, he told himself, so bitterly. It was not a heavy penance. There was nothing else to mar his happiness.

And Margaret's happiness would have been perfect if her father had not been slowly but surely treading the path which led only to the grave. Her marriage had opened the world to her, and she saw the brightest side of it; for Sidney was careful that she should know only the best people. His uncle had made but few friends, and he himself had lived in a narrow circle. But now, for Margaret's sake, and the gladdening sense of deliverance from a damaging secret, he enlarged the number of his acquaintances, and used his wealth to gain a position in the world which Margaret could enjoy.

Sir John Martin, though he had made but few personal friends, had occupied a prominent place in London as a religious and philanthropic man. It was not difficult to Sidney to regain this position. As long as he had lain under the chance of a discovery that would bring him pain, if it did not bring him disgrace, he had avoided filling the position his uncle had held. But now his past life was buried. Margaret's wishes all lay in the direction of active, personal service of her fellow-men; and Sidney's own nature responded to their claims. It made him feel satisfied that the past was both past and forgotten, when he found himself recognized as a leader among Christian men. And was he not a Christian? Had any man more bitterly repented of his sin?

As for Margaret, no question existed in her mind about her husband's right to call himself a Christian. It had never been her habit to sit in judgment upon others. Religion did not consist in the observance of forms, and the keeping of times and seasons; and she had no ready test to apply for detection. She knew her father made no formal profession of religion; but she could not know how deep and true his love of God might be. Sidney went with her regularly to church; but the secret intercourse of his soul with God was hidden, could not but be hidden from all other souls. No spirit can be so near another spirit as God is to each. God had given to her that which was his greatest earthly gift--the love of a good man.

On the Michaelmas-day after their marriage the tenancy of the present occupier of Apley Hall expired; and a few weeks afterward the rector of Apley was promoted to a more lucrative benefice, and the living, which was in Colonel Cleveland's gift, was vacant. Margaret had this last piece of news to tell Sidney when he returned from the city.

"My father wishes to offer the living to your cousin George," she added, "and, Sidney, he wishes more than words can tell--to go home to Apley before he dies." Margaret's voice faltered, and the tears glistened in her eyes.

"And would you like to go?" he asked, laying his hand fondly on her head. She drew his hand down and laid her lips upon it before answering.

"I was born there," she said, "and all our happy days, before my mother died, were spent there. But I would not wish to go if it separated me at all from you."

Margaret expressed so few desires that Sidney could not feel content to oppose her slightest wish. Apley Hall was a beautiful old Elizabethan mansion, and was in every way a desirable and suitable country house for them. It was probable that if he adopted this position which opened to him as a country squire, he might be elected a member for one of the neighboring boroughs, or even for the county. To go into Parliament had always been a part of his scheme for the future. Yet, inwardly, he shrank a little from living so near to the home of his dead wife, and in the midst of her plebeian relations, whom he could not altogether avoid in so small a country town. They must remind him of a past which ought to be not only dead, but buried and forgotten. He sat silently weighing this question in the balance, unable to come to a decision.

"It is my birthplace," said Margaret, in a low voice, "and I should like it to be the birthplace of our child."

"It shall be so," he answered, kissing her with passionate tenderness.