CHAPTER XVI
THE LOAN REPAID
The carriage had been dispatched to the depot, a servant stood at the endof the avenue waiting to throw open the gate, Mr. Huntingdon walked up anddown the wide colonnade, and Irene sat before the fire in her own room,holding in one palm the flashing betrothal ring which she had been forcedto wear since her return from New York. The few years of partial peace hadpassed; she knew that the hour drew near when the long-dreaded strugglemust begin, and, hopeless of averting it, quietly waited for the storm tobreak. Dropping the ring in her jewellery-box, she turned the key, and justthen her father's voice rang through the house.
"Irene! the carriage is coming up the avenue."
She went slowly downstairs, followed by Paragon, and joined her father atthe door. His searching look discovered nothing in the serene face; thecarriage stopped, and he hastened to meet his nephew.
"Come at last, eh! Welcome home, my dear boy."
The young man turned from his uncle, sprang up the steps, then paused, andthe cousins looked at each other.
"Well, Hugh! I am very glad to see you once more."
She held out her hands, and he saw at a glance that her fingers wereunfettered. Seizing them warmly, he bent forward; but she drew back coldly,and he exclaimed--
"Irene! I claim a warmer welcome."
She made a haughty, repellent gesture, and moved forward a few steps, togreet the stranger who accompanied him.
"My daughter, this is your uncle, Eric Mitchell, who has not seen you sinceyou were a baby."
The party entered the house, and, seated beside him, Irene gazed withmingled emotions of pain and pleasure upon her mother's only brother. Hewas about thirty, but looked older from life-long suffering; had usedcrutches from the time he was five years of age, having been hopelesslycrippled by a fall during his infancy. His features were sharp, his cheekswore the sallow hue of habitual ill-health, and his fine grey eyes weresomewhat sunken. Resting his crutches against the sofa, he leaned back, andlooked long and earnestly at his niece. Very dimly he remembered a fair,flaxen-haired baby whom the nurse had held out to be kissed when he wassent to Philadelphia to be treated for his lameness; soon after he heard ofhis sister's death, and then his tutor took him to Europe, to command thebest medical advice of the old world.
"From the faint recollection which I have of your mother, I think youstrongly resemble her," he said at last in a fond, gentle tone.
"I don't know about that, Eric. She is far more of a Huntingdon than aMitchell. She has many of the traits of your family, but in appearance shecertainly belongs to my side of the house. She very often reminds me ofHugh's mother."
Conversation turned upon the misfortune of the cripple; he spoke freely ofthe unsuccessful experiments made by eminent physicians, of thehopelessness of his case; and Irene was particularly impressed by thecalmness and patience with which he seemed to have resigned himself to thisgreat affliction. She felt irresistibly drawn toward him, careless ofpassing hours and of Hugh's ill-concealed impatience of manner. As theyrose from the tea-table her cousin said laughingly--
"I protest against monopoly. I have not been able to say three words to mylady-cousin."
"I yield the floor from necessity. My long journey has unfitted me for thisevening, and I must bid you all an early good night."
"Can I do anything for you, uncle?"
"No, thank you, Irene; I have a servant who thoroughly understands takingcare of me. Go talk to Hugh, who has been wishing me among the antipodes."
He shook hands with her, smiled kindly, and Mr. Huntingdon assisted him tohis room.
"Irene, come into the library and let me have a cigar."
"How tenacious your bad habits are, Hugh."
"Smoking belongs to no such category. My habits are certainly quite astenacious as my cousin's antipathies."
He selected a cigar, lighted it, and drawing a chair near hers, threwhimself into it with an expression of great satisfaction. "It is delightfulto get back home, and see you again, Irene. I felt some regret at quittingParis, but the sight of your face more than compensates me."
She was looking very earnestly at him, noting the alteration in hisappearance, and for a moment his eyes drooped before hers. She saw that theyears had been spent, not in study, but in a giddy round of pleasure anddissipation; yet the bright, frank, genial expression of boyhood stilllingered, and she could not deny that he had grown up a very handsome man.
"Irene, I had a right to expect a warmer welcome than you deigned to giveme."
"Hugh, remember that we have ceased to be children. When you learn toregard me simply as your cousin, and are satisfied with a cousin's welcome,then, and not until then, shall you receive it. Let childish whims passwith the years that have separated us; rake up no germs of contention tomar this first evening of your return. Be reasonable, and now tell me howyou have employed yourself since we parted; what have you seen? what haveyou gleaned?"
Insensibly he found himself drawn into a narration of his course of life.She listened with apparent interest, making occasional good-humouredcomments, and bringing him back to the subject whenever he attempted adetour toward the topic so extremely distasteful to her.
The clock struck eleven; she rose and said--
"I beg your pardon, Hugh, for keeping you up so late. I ought to have knownthat you were fatigued by railroad travel, and required sleep. You know theway to your room; it is the same you occupied before you went to college.Good night; I hope you will rest well."
She held out her hand carelessly; he took it eagerly, and holding it up tothe light said, in a disappointed tone--
"Irene, where is my ring? Why are you not wearing it?"
"It is in my jewellery-box. As I gave you my reasons for not wearing it,when you offered it to me, it is not necessary to repeat them now. Goodnight, Hugh; go dream of something more agreeable than our old childishquarrels." She withdrew her fingers and left him.
A week passed, varied by few incidents of interest; the new-comers becamethoroughly domesticated--the old routine was re-established. Hugh seemedgay and careless--hunting, visiting, renewing boyish acquaintances, andwhiling away the time as inclination prompted. He had had a longconversation with his uncle, and the result was that, for the present, noallusion was made to the future. In Irene's presence the subject wastemporarily tabooed. She knew that the project was not relinquished, wasonly veiled till a convenient season, and, giving to the momentary lull itsfull value, she acquiesced, finding in Eric's society enjoyment andresources altogether unexpected. Instinctively they seemed to comprehendeach other's character, and while both were taciturn and undemonstrative, awarm affection sprang up between them.
On Sunday morning, as the family group sat around the breakfast-tablewaiting for Hugh, who lingered, as usual, over his second cup of chocolate,Mr. Mitchell suddenly laid down the fork with which he had been describinga series of geometrical figures on the fine damask, and said, "I met ayoung man in Brussels who interested me extremely, and in connexion withwhom I venture the prediction that, if he lives, he will occupy aconspicuous position in the affairs of his country. He is, or was,secretary of Mr. Campbell, our minister to ----, and they were both on avisit to Brussels when I met them. His name is Aubrey, and he told me thathe lived here. His talents are of the first order; his ambition unbounded,I should judge; and his patient, laborious application certainly surpassesanything I have ever seen. It happened that a friend of mine, from London,was prosecuting certain researches among the MS. archives at Brussels, andhere, immersed in study, he says he found the secretary, who completelydistanced him in his investigations, and then, with unexpected generosity,placed his notes at my friend's disposal. His industry is almostincredible. Conversing with Campbell concerning him, I learned that he wasa protege of the minister, who spoke of his future in singularly sanguineterms. He left him some time since to embark in the practice of law. Do youknow him, Huntingdon?"
"No, sir! but I know that his father was
sentenced to the gallows, and onlysaved himself from it by cutting his miserable throat, and cheating thelaw."
The master of the house thrust back his chair violently, crushing one ofParagon's innocent paws as he crouched on the carpet, and overturning aglass which shivered into a dozen fragments at his feet.
Looking at his watch, he said, as if wishing to cut the conversation short:"Irene, if you intend to go to church to-day, it is time that you had yourbonnet on. Hugh, what will you do with yourself? Go with Eric and yourcousin!"
"No, I rather think I shall stay at home with you. After Europeancathedrals, our American churches seem excessively plain." Irene went toher room, pondering the conversation. She thought it remarkable that, aslong as she had been at home, she had never seen Russell, even on thestreet.
Unlocking her writing-desk, she took out a tiny note which had accompanieda check for two hundred dollars, and had reached her a few months beforeshe left boarding school. The firm, round, manly hand ran as follows--
"With gratitude beyond all expression for the favour conferred on my motherand myself, some years since, I now return to Miss Huntingdon the moneywhich I have ever regarded as a friendly loan. Hoping that the future willafford me some opportunity of proving my appreciation of her greatkindness,
"I remain, most respectfully,
"Her obliged friend,
"RUSSELL AUBREY.
"NEW YORK, _September 5th._"
She was conscious of a feeling of regret that the money had been returned;it was pleasant to reflect on the fact that she had laid him underobligation; now it all seemed cancelled. She relocked the desk, and,drawing on her gloves, joined her uncle at the carriage. Arriving at churchlater than was her wont, she found the family pew occupied by strangers,and crossed the aisle to share a friend's, but at that instant a tall formrose in Mr. Campbell's long-vacant pew, stepped into the aisle, and heldopen the door. She drew back to suffer her uncle to limp in and lay asidehis crutches, saw him give his hand to the stranger, and, sweeping her veilaside as she entered, she saw Russell quietly resume his seat at the end ofthe pew.
Startled beyond measure, she looked at him intently, and almost wonderedthat she recognized him, he had changed so materially since the day onwhich she stood with him before his mother's gate. Meantime the servicecommenced, she gave her hymn-book to her uncle, and at the same momentRussell found the place, and handed her one of two which lay near him. Asshe received it their eyes met, and she held out her hand. He took it, shefelt, his fingers tremble as they dropped hers, and then both faces bentover the books. When they knelt side by side, and the heavy folds of herelegant dress swept against him, it seemed a feverish dream to her; shecould not realize that, at last, they had met again, and her heart beat sofiercely that she pressed her hand upon it, dreading lest he should hearits loud pulsations.
The discourse was ended, the diapason of the organ swelled through thelofty church, priestly hands hovered like white doves over thecongregation, dismissing all with blessing. Once more Irene swept back therich lace veil, fully exposing her face; once more her eyes looked intothose of the man who politely held the pew door open; both bowed withstately grace, and she walked down the aisle. She heard Russell talking toher uncle just behind her, heard the inquiries concerning his health, theexpression of pleasure at meeting again, the hope which Eric uttered thathe should see him frequently during his stay in W----. Without even aglance over her shoulder, she proceeded to the carriage, where her unclesoon joined her.
She met his searching gaze calmly, and as they now neared the house heforbore any further allusion to the subject which he shrewdly suspectedengaged her thoughts quite as fully as his own.