A Changed Heart is a Webnovel created by May Agnes Fleming.
This lightnovel is currently completed.
“That will do,” said Lady Leroy, “I’m glad it’s over.”
“Do you want that paper witnessed? Call Midge.”
Mr. Darcy opened the door, and shouted through the darkness for Midge, as Captain Cavendish had once done before. Midge made her appearance, as soapy and steamy as ever.
“Write your name here,” said Mr. Darcy, abruptly pointing to the place.
“What is it?” inquired Midge.
“That’s no affair of yours, is it? Sign it, will you?”
Midge took the pen as if it weighed half a ton or so, set her head very much on one side, thrust her tongue a little out of one corner of her mouth, and with much labor and painstaking, affixed a blotted autograph–Priscilla Short.
“That will do,” said Mr. Darcy; “we want another. Call in old Nettleby–he can write.”
Midge, casting a parting look, of much complacence at her performance, departed on her errand, and old Nettleby coming in shortly after, affixed another blotted signature. Mr. Darcy dispatched him about his business, folded the doc.u.ment, put it in his pocket-book, and took his hat and cane to go. On the threshold he paused.
“This has been done under the influence of anger, Mrs. Leroy,” he said; “and you will think better of it, and send me word to destroy it before long. I consider it most unjust–exceedingly unjust–altogether unjustifiable! Good afternoon, ma’am.”
Cherrie waited in her hiding-place until she heard the hall door close after him, then stole noiselessly out, down-stairs, through the window, and gained her own home, un.o.bserved.
What had she heard? Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her whole manner strangely excited. She could not keep still–she walked ceaselessly to and from the gate, straining her eyes in the direction of Speckport.
“Why don’t he come! Why don’t he come!” she kept repeating, hurriedly.
“Oh, what will he say to this?”
CHAPTER XIII.
AFTER THE WEDDING.
Ann Nettleby, busy in the culinary department, never remembered seeing her restless sister so exceedingly restless as on this afternoon. When the clock struck six, and old Mr. Nettleby plodded home from his day’s work, and the two young Mr. Nettleby’s came whistling from town, and tea was ready, Ann came out to call her to partake. But Cherrie impatiently declined to partake; and still waited and watched, while the sunset was burning itself out of the purple sky, and the cinnamon roses drooped in the evening wind. The last amber and crimson flush was paling behind the blue western hills, when he, so long waited for, came up the dusty road, twirling a cane in his hand, and smoking a cigar. The unspeakable beauty and serenity of the summer twilight was no more to him than to her who watched at the vine-wreathed gate. A handsome man and a pretty girl–each was far more to the taste of the other than all the beauty of sky and earth.
Right opposite the cottage were the dark, silent cedar woods. The moment he came in sight, Cherrie opened the gate, motioning him to follow, struck into the narrow footpath, winding among the woods. Captain Cavendish followed, and found her sitting on a little knoll, under the tree.
“I have been watching for you this ever so long,” she breathlessly began; “I thought you would never come! I have something to tell you, and I daren’t tell you in the house, for father and the boys are there.”
Captain Cavendish leaned against a tree, puffed his cigar, and looked lazily down at her.
“Well, pet.i.te, what is it?”
“Oh, it’s something dreadfully important. It’s about Miss Marsh.”
The young captain threw away his cigar, and took a seat beside Cherrie, interested at once. He put his arm round her waist, too, but this is by-the-way.
“About Miss Marsh? Have you been listening?”
Cherrie gave him an account how she had gone for Mr. Darcy, and hidden afterward in Nathalie’s room.
“My clever little darling! And what did you hear?”
“You never could guess! O my goodness,” cried Cherrie, clasping her hands, “won’t Miss Natty be in a pa.s.sion, when she finds it out.”
“Will she, though? Let us hear it, Cherrie.”
“Well,” said Cherrie, “you know Miss Natty was to be heiress of Redmon, and have all Lady Leroy’s money when she dies?”
“Yes! well?”
“Well, she isn’t to be any longer! Lady Leroy made a new will this afternoon, and Miss Natty is disinherited!”
Captain Cavendish started with something like an oath.
“Cherrie! are you sure of this?”
“Certain sure!” said Cherrie, with a look and tone there was no doubting. “I heard every word of it–her telling him so first, and him reading the will afterward and father and Midge signed it!”
“The–devil!” said Captain Cavendish between his teeth; “but what put such a freak in the old hag’s head?”
“You!” said Cherrie.
“I!”
“Yes–just you! She told Mr. Darcy Natty was engaged to you, and would not give you up, all she could say; so she meant to disinherit her. She said Nathalie should never know, unless she married you before she was dead–if she didn’t, she shouldn’t find it out until she was in her grave, and then you would desert her when you found out she was poor, and Nathalie would be rewarded for her disobedience!”
Captain Cavendish’s handsome face wore a scowl so black, and the oath he swore was so dreadful, that even Cherrie shrank away in something like terror.
“The old hag! I could throttle her if I had her here! Cherrie, who did she leave her money to?”
“To her brother–or, in case of his death, to his heirs; and five pounds to Natty to buy a mourning ring.”
“Did you hear her brother’s name?”
“Yes, but I forget! It was Harrington, or Harrison, or something like that. Mr. Darcy scolded like everything, and said it was unjust; but Lady Leroy didn’t seem to mind him. Isn’t it good I listened?”
“Cherrie! Cherrie! Cherrie!” called Ann Nettleby, “Where are you, Cherrie? There’s somebody in the house wants you!”
“I must go!” said Cherrie, rising. “You stay here, so Ann won’t see you.
Will you be up to-morrow?”
“Yes,” said Captain Cavendish; and Cherrie flitted away rapidly in the growing dusk. For once he was glad to be rid of Cherrie–glad to be calm and think, and the late-rising moon was high in the sky before he left the wood, and walked back to Speckport.
Cherrie’s visitor turned out to be Charley Marsh, who received the reverse of a cordial welcome from his fickle-minded lady-love, who was more than a little provoked at his shortening her interview with one she liked better. She seated herself by the window, with her eyes fixed on the cedar wood, rapidly blackening now, waiting for her lover to emerge; but when his tall dark figure did at length stride out through the dark path, night had fairly fallen, and it was too late to see what expression his face wore.
Whatever the young Englishman’s state of mind had been on leaving the wood that night, it was serene as mood could be when, next morning, Sunday, Miss Nettleby, _en grande tenue_, gold chain and all, made her appearance in Speckport, and met him as she turned out of Redmon road.
Miss Nettleby was going to patronize the cathedral this morning, confirmation was to take place, with all the magnificent and poetical ceremonies of the Catholic Church, and Cherrie would not have missed it for the world. Neither would Captain Cavendish, who went partly from curiosity, partly to kill time, partly to show himself in full uniform, and partly to hear Nathalie Marsh play and sing. Out of the great organ she was drawing such inspiring strains as Captain Cavendish thought he had never heard before; rolling out in volumes of harmony over the ears of people below, and grand and grateful were the notes the instrument gave forth to her master-hand. In front of the altar all the youthful aspirants for confirmation were seated, the girls robed in snowy white, and wearing vails and wreaths on their bowed heads, like young brides.