The Shadow of Ashlydyat is a Webnovel created by Henry Wood.
This lightnovel is currently completed.
“Had you expressed to him any particular liking for Charlotte Pain?”
“I had not; at any time. Sir George believed Miss Pain had a large fortune, and he recommended me, more than once, to think of her, and it.
He said she was a handsome girl, and none the worse for possessing a fortune. He had heard she would have thirty thousand pounds. I used to laugh it off. I cared for Maria too much to cast a thought to Charlotte Pain. That is the whole truth, Mr. Hastings, on my honour.”
“Would he have objected to Maria?”
“To Maria I am certain he would not have objected. To her want of fortune he might. But that is a thing that only concerns myself. I do not require fortune with my wife, and I do not seek it. You will give her to me, Mr. Hastings? You will dispense with unnecessary ceremony, and let her go abroad with me?” he urged. “She will do me more good than all else.”
“I will give you no promise of any sort, Mr. George G.o.dolphin. As to taking her abroad with you, it is absurd to think of it. And no daughter of mine shall enter a family where she is not sure of a hearty welcome.
I must first know the sentiments of yours.”
George looked radiant. “Mr. Hastings, if they heartily welcome Maria, will you allow _me_ to welcome her?”
“Possibly I may.”
“Then it is an affair decided. Janet will be relieved of a nightmare; and Maria is, I believe, Thomas’s prime favourite in all the world, now that Ethel is gone.”
“Of what nightmare will it relieve Miss G.o.dolphin?” inquired the Rector.
A smile crossed George’s lips. “She, like you, has been fearing that I intended to connect myself with Charlotte Pain. Only yesterday I a.s.sured Janet that she was mistaken; but I scarcely think she placed entire faith in me. She does not like Miss Pain.”
“Do you think you have pursued a wise course in giving cause for this talk, regarding Miss Pain?”
“I have not given cause to Miss Pain herself, Mr. Hastings,” replied George, warmly. “I am convinced that she has known in her heart of my attachment to Maria. As to whiling away a few hours with her occasionally in idle talk, it is a pastime that Charlotte Pain is given to favour.”
“And myself also,” Mr. George might have added.
They left the room together. A servant came up to Mr. Hastings as he was crossing the hall, and said an applicant at the door craved speech of him. The Rector turned to it, and George entered the drawing-room alone.
Maria stood, pale, anxious, excited, leaning against a corner of the window, half shrouded by the muslin curtains. She scarcely dared look up when George entered. It was not _his_ gaze that she dreaded to meet, but that of Mr. Hastings. To anger or displease her father was wormwood to Maria.
George cast a glance round the room. “Where’s Charlotte Pain?” he asked.
“She is gone,” was Maria’s answer. “Oh, George!” clasping her hands, and lifting to him her streaming eyes: “it was cruel of her to say what she did!”
“I could give it a better name than that, Maria. Never mind: we can afford to be generous to-day.”
“Is papa fully convinced that–that I do not deserve blame?”
“He was convinced of that before he left this room. You are to be mine, Maria,” he softly added in a whisper. “And very shortly. I must take you abroad with me.”
She stood before him, not daring to look up now: shrinking from his ardent gaze, the crimson mantling to her pure cheek.
“Mr. Hastings demurs at the haste; calls it absurd,” continued George; “but, if you will consent to waive ceremony, surely he may do so. Which would be more absurd, Maria? your marrying without the three months’
preparation for millinery deemed necessary by fashion, or my going away alone for an indefinite period, perhaps to die.”
“Not to die, George!” she involuntarily answered in a tone painfully beseeching–as if he held the fiat of life or death in his own hands.
“But–about the haste–I don’t know—- I heard you thought of departing soon?”
“I ought to be away in a fortnight’s time.”
That startled her. “A fortnight’s time!” she echoed, in a voice of alarm. “Then it could not be. What would Prior’s Ash say?”
“Maria,” he gravely answered, “some nine months ago, when Sarah Anne Grame was seized with fever, my brother, alarmed for Ethel’s safety, would have married her hastily, so that he might have the right to remove her from danger. Ethel’s answer to him was, ‘What would Prior’s Ash say?’–as you have now answered me. Thomas bowed to it: he suffered the world’s notions to reign paramount–and he lost Ethel. What value do you suppose _he_ sets now upon the opinions of Prior’s Ash? The cases may not be precisely parallel, but they are sufficiently so to decide me. If I go away from home, I take you: if I may not take you, I do not go. And now, my darling, I will say farewell to you for the present.”
She was surprised. She thought he had come to stay for some hours.
“Yes,” he replied; “but affairs have changed since I entered. Until they shall be more definitively settled, Mr. Hastings will not care that I remain his guest.”
He bent to kiss her. Not in the stolen manner he had been accustomed to, but–quietly, gravely, turning her shy face to his, as if it were his legal province so to do. “A little while, young lady,” he saucily whispered, “and you will be giving me kiss for kiss.”
Mr. Hastings was in the porch still, holding a colloquy with ill-doing and troublesome Mrs. Bond. George held out his hand as he pa.s.sed.
“You have not rested yourself,” said the Rector.
“I shall get back as far as the bank and rest there,” replied George. “I presume, sir, that you intend to see my brother?”
“And also Miss G.o.dolphin,” curtly said the Rector.
His eyes followed George down the path to the gate, as he and his stick moved unsteadily along. “Marry now!” mentally cried Mr. Hastings, his brow contracting: “he looks more fit to take to his bed, and keep it.
Now, Mrs. Bond,” he added aloud, “let me hear the conclusion of this fine tale.”
George took his way to the bank. He had not pa.s.sed it in coming, having cut across from Ashlydyat by the nearer way at the back of the town. He took them by surprise. Mr. Crosse was out, but the clerks were warm in their congratulations; they had not believed him yet equal to the exertion.
“You look very tired,” said Thomas, when they were alone in the bank parlour.
“I feel f.a.gged to death,” was George’s answer. “I must get you to send out for a fly for me, and go home in that. Thomas,” he continued, plunging into his business abruptly, “I expect you will have an application made to you, regarding me.”
“In what way?” quietly asked Thomas.
“Well–it is not exactly a certificate of character that’s required,”
returned George, with a smile. “I–I am thinking of getting married.
Will you approve of it?”
“I have no right to disapprove,” said Thomas, in a kind, grave tone.
“You are your own master; free to act as you shall judge best. I only hope, George, that you will, in choosing, consider your future happiness.”
“Has it never occurred to you that I have chosen?”
“I used to think at times that you had chosen, or felt inclined to choose, Maria Hastings.”
“Right,” said George. “I have been speaking to Mr. Hastings, and it appears to have taken him entirely by surprise. He would give me no answer until he should have ascertained whether the alliance would be agreeable to you and Janet. He is a man of crotchets, you know. So I expect he will be coming to you, Thomas.”
Thomas G.o.dolphin’s eyes lighted up with pleasure. “He shall receive my hearty approval,” he said, warmly. “George”–changing his tone to sadness–“in the days gone by I thought there were two young beings superior to the rest of the world: Ethel and Maria.”
“I said so to Mr. Hastings. I conclude he fears that Maria’s want of fortune would render her unpalatable to my family,” remarked George.
“Certainly not to me. Ethel, whom I chose, had even less. If you think well to dispense with fortune in your wife, George, we have no right to object to it. I am _glad_ that you have chosen Maria Hastings.”