CHAPTER XXIV.
SIR BOOTH IN A PASSION.
DAYS passed, during which Cleve Verney paid stolen visits at Malory,more cautiously managed than ever; and nearly every afternoon did thegood people of Cardyllian see him walk the green, to and fro, with theEtherage girls, so that the subject began to be canvassed very gravely,and even Miss Charity was disposed to think that he certainly _did_ likeAgnes, and confided to her friend, Mrs. Brindley, of "The Cottage," thatif Aggie married, _she_ should _give up_. _Nothing_ could induce _her_,Miss Charity, to marry, she solemnly assured her friends.
And I must do that spinster the justice to say, that there was not thefaintest flavour of sour grapes in the acerbity with which shepronounced against the "shocking folly of girls marrying," for she mightundoubtedly have been married, having had in her youth severalunexceptionable offers, none of which had ever moved her.
I know not what hopes Sir Booth may have founded upon his conversationwith Cleve Verney. Men in the Baronet's predicament nurse their hopesfondly, and their mustard seeds grow rapidly into great trees, in whosebranches they shelter their families, and roost themselves. He grewgracious at times in the contemplation of brilliant possibilities, andone day, to her amazement and consternation, opened the matter brieflyto Miss Sheckleton, who fancied that she was discovered, and he on thepoint of exploding, and felt as if she were going to faint.
Happily for her, he fancied that Cleve must have seen Margaretaccidentally during some of his political knight-errantries in thecounty which he had contested with Sir Booth. We know, as well as MissSheckleton, how this really was.
Sir Booth's dreams, however, were broken with a crash. To Miss AnneSheckleton came a letter from Sir Booth's attorneys, informing theBaronet that Mr. Kiffyn Fulke Verney had just served them with a noticewhich seemed to threaten a wantonly vexatious and expensive proceeding,and then desired to know what course, having detailed the respectiveconsequences of each, he would wish them to take.
Now Sir Booth broke into one of his frenzies, called up Miss Sheckleton,damned and cursed the whole Verney family, excommunicated them, andmade the walls of Malory ring with the storm and thunder he launched atthe heads of the ancient race who had built them.
Scared and pale Miss Anne Sheckleton withdrew.
"My dear, something has happened: he has had a letter from his lawpeople, and Mr. Kiffyn Verney has directed, I think, some unexpectedproceedings. How I wish they would stop these miserable lawsuits, andleave your papa at peace. Your papa's attorneys think they can gainnothing by worrying him, and it _is_ so unfortunate just now."
So spoke Miss Sheckleton, who had found Margaret, with her bullfinch andher squirrels, in that pretty but melancholy room which is darkened bythe old forest, through whose shafted stems shadowy perspectives open,and there, as in the dimness of a monastic library, she was busy overthe illumination of her vellum Psalter, with gold and ultramarine, andall other vivid pigments.
Margaret stood up, and looked in her face rather pale, and with hersmall hand pressed to her heart.
"He's _very_ angry," added Miss Sheckleton, with a dark look, and anod.
"Are we going to leave this?" inquired the girl in almost a whisper.
"He did not say; I fancy not. No, he'd have said so the first thing,"answered the old lady.
"Well, we can do nothing; it can't be helped, I suppose?" said MissMargaret, looking down very sadly on her mediaeval blazonry.
"Nothing, my dear! nothing on earth. No one can be more anxious that allthis kind of thing should cease, than Cleve Verney, as you know; butwhat can even _he_ do?" said Miss Sheckleton.
Margaret looked through the window, down the sylvan glade, and sighed.
"His uncle, Kiffyn Verney," resumed Anne Sheckleton, "is such adisagreeable, spiteful man, and such a feud has been between them, Ireally don't see how it is to end; but Cleve, you know, is so clever,and so devoted, I'm sure he'll find some way."
Margaret sighed again, and said,--
"Papa, I suppose, is _very_ angry."
I think Sir Booth Fanshawe was the only person on earth whom thatspirited girl really feared. I'm afraid there was not much good in thatold man, and that most of the things I have heard of him were true.Unlike other violent men, he was not easily placable; and generally,when it was not very troublesome, remembered and executed his threats.She remembered dimly scenes between him and her dead mother. Sheremembered well her childish dread of his severity, and her fear of hiseye and his voice had never left her.
Miss Sheckleton just lifted her fingers in the air, and raised her eyesto the ceiling, with a little shake of her head.
Margaret sighed again. I suppose she was thinking of that course of truelove that never yet ran smooth, upon which the freightage of her lifewas ventured.
Her spinster friend looked on her sad, pale face, gazing dreamily intothe forest. The solemn shadow of the inevitable, the sorrows of humanlife, had now for the first time begun to touch her young face. The oldstory was already telling itself to her, in those ominous musical tonesthat swell to solemn anthem soon; and sometimes, crash and howl at lastover such wreck, and in such darkness as we shut our eyes and ears upon,and try to forget.
Old Anne Sheckleton's face saddened at the sight with a beautifulsoftness. She laid her thin hand on the girl's shoulder, and then puther arms about her neck, and kissed her, and said,--"All will comeright, darling, you'll see;" and the girl made answer by another kiss;and they stood for a minute, hand locked in hand, and the old maidsmiled tenderly, a cheerful smile but pale, and patted her cheek andnodded, and with another kiss, left the room, with a mournful presageheavy at her heart.
As she passed, the stern voice of Sir Booth called to her.
"Yes," she answered.
"A word or two," he said, and she went to his room.
"I've been thinking," said he, looking at her steadily and fiercely--hadsome suspicion lighted up his mind since he had spoken to her?--"thatyoung man, Cleve Verney; I believe he's still at Ware. Do you know him?"
"I should know his appearance. I saw him two or three times during thatcontest for the county, two years since; but he did not see me, I'msure."
This was an evasion, but the vices of slavery always grow up under atyranny.
"Well, _Margaret_--does _she_ correspond with any one?" demanded he.
"I can answer for it, positively. Margaret has no correspondence. Shewrites to _no_ one," she answered.
"That fellow is still at Ware. So, Christmass Owen told me lastnight--a place of the Verneys, at the other side--and he has got a boat.I should not wonder if he were to come here, trying to see her."
So Sir Booth followed out his hypothesis, and waxed wroth, and morewroth as he proceeded, and so chafed himself into one of his paroxysmsof temper. I know not what he said; but when she left him, poor MissSheckleton was in tears, and, trembling, told Margaret, that if it werenot for _her_, she would not remain another day in his house. Sherelated to Margaret what had passed, and said,--
"I almost hope Cleve Verney may not come again while we remain here. Ireally don't know what might be the consequence of your papa's meetinghim here, in his present state of exasperation! Of course to Cleve itwould be very little; but your existence, my poor child, would be madeso miserable! And as for me, I tell you frankly, I should be compelledto leave you. Every one knows what Booth Fanshawe is when he isangry--how cruel he _can_ be. I know he's your father, my dear, but wecan't be blind to facts, and we both know that his misfortunes have notimproved his temper."
Cleve nevertheless saw the ladies that day, talked with them earnestlyand hurriedly, for Miss Anne Sheckleton was nervous, and miserable tillthe interview ended, and submitted to the condition imposed by thatkindly and panic-stricken lady, which was on no account to visit Maloryas heretofore for two or three days, by the end of which time she hopedSir Booth's anger and suspicions might have somewhat subsided.