The Monctons: A Novel, Volume I

S >> Susanna Moodie >> The Monctons: A Novel, Volume I

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"Cornelius invited me to pass the Christmas vacation with him in town.
When at home he resided with his aunt, a widow lady who had brought up
his only sister, who had been left an orphan at a very early age.
Charlotte Laurie was several years younger than her brother; and in
speaking of her he had always told me that she was a very pretty girl,
but I was not prepared to behold the beautiful and fascinating creature
to whom I was introduced.

"Charlotte Laurie was a child of nature, without display or
affectation; conscious of her great personal attractions only so far as
to render her more agreeable--for what beautiful woman was ever
ignorant of her charms? My pretty Lotty knew perfectly the power they
gave her over the restless and inconstant heart of man, but she did not
abuse it.

"My passions, Geoffrey, by nature, are as warm and impetuous as your
own, and they soon betrayed me into love; and I thought that the fair
girl to whom I had lost my heart was not insensible to the passion she
had inspired. But when I recalled my obscure parentage, of which
Cornelius was perfectly ignorant; and the uncertainty of my future
prospects, I felt that it would be dishonourable in me to advance my
suit to the young lady. To remain in the house and keep silent upon a
subject so important to my peace, I found would be impossible; and I
feigned a letter from Mr. Mornington, whom I called my uncle, requiring
my immediate presence in York.

"My departure caused great regret to the family. Cornelius
remonstrated; Mrs. H---- questioned the necessity of my journey;
Charlotte said nothing, but left the room in tears. Strongly tempted as
I was to stay, I remained firm to my original purpose, and bade adieu
to my amiable friends, without breathing a word even to Cornelius of my
attachment for his sister.

"On my way to York I called at my old home, and was received with the
most lively demonstrations of joy by Alice, whom I found a blooming
girl of fifteen. Old Dinah told me, as she scowled at my handsome dress
and improved appearance, 'That she supposed I was now too fine a
gentleman to call her grandmother, or Alice sister?'

"I assured her that my improved circumstances had not changed my heart,
nor made me ashamed of my old friends. Something, I fear, in my looks,
contradicted my words, for she turned from me with a scornful smile:

"'The world,' said she, 'was a good school for teaching people the art
of falsehood.'

"Her sarcasms made me very uncomfortable--for my conscience convicted
me of their truth--and turning to Alice I begged her to tell me the
news, for I was certain a great deal must have happened in the
neighbourhood during the four years I had been absent.

"'No,' said Alice; 'we go on much as usual. Sir Alexander and Margaret
are very kind to me, and I go every day up to the Hall. But she is Miss
Moncton now, and I am plain Alice Mornington. Mr. Theophilus is often
there; and he is so much improved, Philip, you would never know him. He
is no longer proud and disagreeable, but so affable and kind, and
always sees me safe home to the Lodge. People say that he is to marry
Miss Moncton; but I don't believe a word of it. He does not love her I
am certain; for he told me so a few days ago; and that he thought me a
thousand times handsomer than his cousin!'

"While Alice ran on thus, I kept my eyes fixed upon her beautiful face;
and from the heightening of her colour when speaking of Theophilus, I
was convinced that young as she was, she was not insensible to his
flattery. Anxious to warn her of her danger, I drew her arm through
mine, and we strolled together into the park.

"'Dear Alice,' said I, affectionately; 'do you love your brother as
well as you used to do in years long past?'

"'Philip, do you doubt my love?' she answered, reproachfully.

"'Not in the least, Alice. I know your heart to be warm and true; but
years make great changes. Four years have fled away since we met, and
you are nearly grown into a woman. Perhaps you will be angry with me if
I venture to give you a little brotherly advice.'

"'Not without you scold me too much.'

"'My lecture, Alice, I will confine to a few words. Do not listen, dear
child, to the flattering speeches of Theophilus Moncton. He means you
no good.'

"'How can you know that?' she said, quickly.

"'From the general character which the man bears. From my experience of
him when a boy. Avoid his company; he means to deceive you.'

"'Philip, you wrong him, indeed, you do!' she cried, with flashing
eyes. 'He never talks to me of love, he only seeks to be my friend. I
am too young to think of love. I don't know what being in love is--but
I do feel very grateful to one so much richer and better than me, and
who is heir to all these beautiful groves, and that fine old Hall,
taking such an interest in my welfare--particularly,' she added, with
great emphasis on her words, 'after he received such unworthy treatment
from a brother of mine.'

"'You surely do not mean what you say, Alice?'

"'I never say what I do not mean; and if you come back to us, Philip,
only to quarrel with us, you had better have stayed away.'

"For a few minutes I felt terribly annoyed; but when I recollected that
these words fell from the lips of a spoilt child, I restrained my
anger, in the hope of saving her from the ruin I feared might be
impending over her.

"'Alice, you are a simple, little girl; as such I forgive you. You are
not aware of the danger to which you are exposed. Young people are so
ignorant of the treachery of the world, and so confident in their own
strength to resist temptation, that they easily fall into the snares
laid for them by wicked and designing men. If you persist in receiving
the attentions of this man, who would consider it the utmost
degradation to make you his wife, I, as your brother and natural
protector, will consider it my duty to remove you from this place.'

"'I will not go!' she cried; stopping suddenly and looking me in the
face with an air of defiance. 'You are not your own master yet, much
less mine. I shall remain here with my dear, old grandmother, as long
as she lives. And let me tell you, Mr. Philip, I am as competent to
manage my own affairs as you are!'

"Could this be Alice?

"I looked at her, and looked again. The beauty of her countenance
seemed changed. I turned from her with a deep sigh.

"'Oh, Alice, sister Alice! I tremble for you; so young and so
self-willed. This is not my Alice, the happy, confiding Alice, who once
loved me so tenderly.'

"'I did love you, Philip, very much,' she replied, in a softened voice;
'but how was my love returned? You quarrelled with the only friend we
had in the world. One, too, who had done so much for us. To whose
bounty we were indebted for a home and daily bread; for the clothes we
wore, for the instruction we received--who treated us in every respect
more like his own children, than the poor recipients of his noble
generosity. You forgot all this. You insolently refused to apologize to
his young relative, the heir of his title and wealth, for having
grossly insulted him, and left your home and his protection without
bidding this dear sister, for whose well-doing you are so deeply
concerned, and who shared in your disgrace, one short farewell.'

"'Alice--Alice!'

"'Hush, sir; hear me to the end, if you please. You acted more
ungratefully still, when you sought employment from one of Sir
Alexander's bitterest enemies; and never wrote a single line either to
your injured patron or to us. Was this love? Young as I am, Philip
Mornington, I could not have been guilty of such baseness. I despise
your conduct; and advice comes very ill from a person who could be
guilty of such.'

"She turned haughtily away; and I, Geoffrey, I stood overwhelmed with
confusion and remorse. I had never seen my conduct in this light
before. I had all along imagined myself the injured party, and looked
upon Sir Alexander as an unreasonable persecutor. But I felt at that
moment, as I stood humbled before that proud girl, that I had not acted
right--that some concession was due on my part to the man from whom I
had received so many benefits; and but for very shame I would have
sought his presence, acknowledged my error, and entreated his pardon.

"Oh, why does this stubborn pride so often stand between us and our
best intentions. I let the moment pass, and my heart remained true to
its stern determination, not to yield one inch of what I falsely termed
independence. My reverie was dispelled by Alice. She took my hand
kindly.

"'You look grave, Philip. I have put these serious thoughts into your
head, and you feel sorry for the past. My anger is all gone. I forgive
you from my very heart. So give me a kiss, and let us be friends; but
no more lectures if you please for the future. I will not stand a
scolding--not even from you. You need not fear that I shall disgrace
you: I am too proud to place myself in the power of any one. I like,
yes, I love Theophilus Moncton, but he will never make a fool of me, or
any one else. But--hush--here is Miss Moncton.'

"The blood crimsoned my face as a sudden turning in the woodland path,
brought me within a few paces of one whom at that moment I would gladly
have shunned. To retreat was impossible. I raised my hat, and with, her
usual frankness, Margaret held out her hand.

"I pressed it respectfully between my own without venturing to raise my
eyes to her face. She perceived my confusion, and doubtless defined the
cause.

"'You have been a sad truant, Philip. But you are welcome home. I, for
one, rejoice to see my dear foster-brother again.'

"'Is that possible?' I stammered out--'Dear Miss Moncton, I am only too
happy to be allowed to plead for myself--I feel that I have sinned
against my good and generous benefactor; that this kindness on your
part, is wholly undeserved. What shall I do to regain your good
opinion.'

"'Say nothing at all about it, Geoffrey. It was a boyish fault, and my
father has often repented that he treated it so seriously. For my own
part, I do not blame you for thrashing Theophilus; had I been provoked
in the same manner, and a lad of your age, I would have done it myself.
My quarrel with you, is for leaving the Park, and deserting us all,
before a reconciliation could take place. You knew that my father's
anger was like dew upon the grass, evaporated by the first sunbeam, and
that we loved you dearly--so that your conduct appears inexcusable and
heartless.'

"'Oh, do not say that, Miss Moncton. What I did was perfectly
impulsive, without thought or premeditation. I could not imagine that I
was in the wrong, and Sir Alexander's conduct appeared to me cruel and
unjust.'

"'Come with me to the Hall, Mr. Mornington, and I will plead your case
to this cruel tyrant. My eloquence with papa is quite irresistible; and
he, poor dear, is more ready to forgive, than you are to ask
forgiveness.'

"This was said, with one of her bewitching smiles, which lighted up
like a passing sunbeam her calm, pale face.

"'You are too good, Miss Moncton. I would gladly avail myself of your
invitation, but I must proceed on my journey to York immediately. I
hope, however, soon to visit Moncton again; when I will, with Sir
Alexander's permission, explain my conduct, and ask his pardon.'

"'I hate procrastination in these matters, which pertain to the heart
and conscience,' said Margaret. 'My motto, when prompted by either, to
perform an act of duty, is--_now_; when we seek forgiveness from God,
or from a friend, we should never defer it to the future, for the
opportunity once neglected may never again be ours.'

"This was said with some severity. A sort of mental cowardice kept me
back and hindered me effectually from profiting by her advice. Just
then, I felt it was out of my power to meet Sir Alexander. I had not
courage to enter his presence in my present mood.

"'Alice,' said Margaret, turning from me with a disappointed air, 'what
has kept _you_ so long away from the Hall?'

"'I grow too proud to visit my rich friends,' returned Alice, in a tone
between sarcasm and raillery.

"'There is only one species of pride, that I tolerate,' said Margaret,
calmly--'the pride of worth. That pride which enables a good man to
struggle successfully against the arrogance of the world.'

"I turned to the speaker with admiration. Had she been born a peasant,
Margaret Moncton would have possessed the dignity of a lady, and the
little lecture she thought fit to bestow upon my beautiful wayward
sister, was dictated by the same noble spirit.

"'We should never be proud, Alice, of the gifts of nature, or fortune,
which depend upon no merit of our own. Beauty and wealth have their due
influence in the world, where their value is greatly overrated; but
they add little in reality to the possessor. Deprived of both, persons
of little moral worth, would relapse into their original
insignificance; while those, who improve the talents entrusted to their
care by Providence, possess qualities which defy the power of change.
Such persons can alone afford to be proud, yet these of all others make
the least display and think most humbly of themselves.'

"This was said playfully, but Alice did not at all relish the reproof;
which, though, disregarded by her, made a deep impression upon me."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE MEETING.

"The next morning I arrived in York, and hastened to the house of Mr.
Mornington. I found the dear old gentleman ill in bed, but in his usual
excellent spirits.

"On expressing my concern for his illness, he laughed at my long face;
told me it was a trifle, and he should soon be well again. Alas, he was
not a true prophet! In a few weeks I followed my worthy friend to his
grave; and found myself at the age of one-and-twenty, my own master,
and sole heir to his large property.

"The joy felt at this unexpected good fortune was more than
counterbalanced by the loss of the generous donor. Gladly would I have
resigned the wealth he so nobly bequeathed me, if by so doing I could
have recalled the dear old man to life. I was detained for several
months in York, settling my affairs. I lost no time, however, in
acquainting Cornelius, by letter, of my good fortune. I took this
opportunity of mentioning my attachment to his sister, and urged him,
if he valued my happiness, to plead with her in my behalf. His answer,
though kind, was far from satisfactory to a young and ardent lover.

"He informed me that Charlotte was not insensible to my passion; and
that he knew that she entertained from me a sincere esteem; but it was
entirely out of her power to accept any offer of marriage without the
consent of her guardian; or she would lose the property bequeathed to
her by her father; who had left this stringent clause in his will.

"For himself, he continued, nothing would give him greater pleasure,
than to see his beloved sister united to a man whom he loved, and whom
he considered worthy of her regard; particularly, as he found his own
health daily declining, and was about to take a journey to the south of
France, in the hope of deriving some benefit from change of climate and
scene.

"He urged me to return immediately to London; to plead my own cause
with Charlotte, and to spend a few days with him, before he left
England; as he felt, that it was more than probable, that we might
never meet again.

"The last mournful sentence decided me, and the next morning found me
on the road to London; and I determined to take Moncton Park in my
route, and seek a reconciliation with Sir Alexander. After what had
passed between me and Miss Moncton, I flattered myself that this would
be an easy matter.

"I was no longer a poor orphan boy, dependent upon his bounty; but a
well-educated, wealthy man, whose fortune was equal, if not greater
than his own. There was no favour I could ask, or that he could bestow,
beyond the renewal of that friendship which formed the delight of my
boyhood, and of which I had been so suddenly deprived.

"As I rode up the noble avenue of oaks which led to the Hall, I felt so
confident of success, so vain of my altered fortunes, so proud of the
noble horse I rode, that my spirits grew buoyant, and my cheeks glowed
with anticipated pleasure.

"'Is Sir Alexander at home?' I eagerly demanded of the liveried servant
that opened the door.

"'He is, sir. What name shall I send up?' I gave him my card, and was
shown into the library, while he carried it up to his master.

"Years had fled away, since I last stood within that room, a happy
thoughtless boy. How vividly did every book and picture recall the
blessed hours I had passed there, with Margaret and Alice, when the
weather was wet, and we could not play abroad! It was in this
apartment, with its carved oak wainscoting and antique windows of
stained glass, in which we generally held our revels, turning over the
huge folios in search of pictures.

"There was the Book of Martyrs, with all its revolting details of human
bigotry; and its dreadful exhibitions of human endurance amidst scorn
and agony. On these we gazed in mysterious awe; and as we turned over
the horrible pages, we said to one another, 'that we were glad we were
not Christians in those days.'

"Then, there was Descartes' ancient philosophy. A huge tome, full of
quaint pictures of gods and goddesses, and angels and devils, on which
we were never tired or gazing; infinitely preferring the latter, with
their curious tails and horns, to the former; whom we called, 'Fat
lazy-looking children with wings.' 'Goldsmith's World,' 'Buffon's
Natural History,' and the whole family of Encyclopedias, with their
numerous prints, were among our chief favourites, and helped to beguile
the long wet day. Sir Alexander often assisted himself at these
exhibitions, and seemed as much pleased with showing us the pictures as
we were in looking at them.

"From the cherished memories of former years, I was recalled by the
entrance of the servant, who, with an air of rude familiarity, told
me--'that Sir Alexander Moncton would never be at home to _Mister
Philip Mornington_.'

"Thunder-struck with this unexpected blow, and writhing under a bitter
sense of humiliation, I affected an air of contemptuous indifference
and turned to depart; when a light grasp was laid upon my arm, and I
encountered the dark soul-lighted eyes of Margaret Moncton, moistened
with tears, and fixed upon me with a gaze of mournful interest,

"'Stay, Mr. Mornington. Dear, Philip! stay, I beseech you, for one
little moment.'

"'Let me go, Miss Moncton. You deceived me into the belief that my
reception would have been very different--I feel that I have no
business here.'

"'That was your own fault, in deferring the _now_ of to-day, to the
_future_ of the unknown to-morrow,' said Margaret, sadly. 'But you must
stay; I insist upon your hearing me speak a few words before you leave
this house.'

"I remained silent and passive, and she continued--'There was a time,
Philip, when your sister Margaret would not have asked anything of you
in vain.' The tears flowed fast down her pale cheeks, and I felt the
small hand which lay on mine tremble violently.

"'Dear Miss Moncton,' said I, gently leading her to a seat, and taking
one beside her, 'you must make some allowance for mortified pride and
wounded feelings. Time has not in the least diminished the affection
and respect I have ever felt for you, and which your present kindness
is not at all likely to lessen. I should, however, be deeply concerned,
if your condescension should draw down upon you the displeasure of your
father.'

"'Philip, I never do aught which I should be ashamed of my father
witnessing. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, than to see him
enter this room; and it is to lead you to him, that brought me here.'

"'He has once forbidden me his presence,' cried I, rising from my seat;
'I shall seek an interview with him no more.'

"'Let me seek it for you.'

"'What good would it answer?'

"Can you ask that question, Mr. Mornington? Remember all you owe to my
father's kindness. I do not want to reproach you with benefits which he
felt pleasure in conferring. But surely some feeling of gratitude is
due from one whom he loved for so many years as a son; whom I am
certain he still loves; whom, if he could once see, would be as dear to
him as ever.'

"'Could I feel that his anger was just, there is no concession, however
great, Miss Moncton, that I would hesitate to make: I love and revere
Sir Alexander, but he has taken up idle prejudices against me, and I am
too proud--obstinate, if you will--to ask his forgiveness for what I
never can look upon as a fault.'

"'One would think, Philip, that you were a Moncton, so hard and
obdurate are their hearts,' said Margaret, weeping afresh. 'How gladly
would I be the peacemaker, and reconcile you to each other, but you
love strife for its own sake--are too proud to acknowledge an error.
Philip,' she cried, passionately, 'do you remember my mother?'

"She had struck a chord which always vibrated intensely in my heart.
'How can I ever forget her? And yet, Miss Moncton, dear Miss Moncton, I
do not wonder at your asking the question.'

"As I said this tears rushed to my own eyes, as a thousand sad
recollections crowded into my mind. The mournful chamber--the bed of
death--the calm, sweet face of the expiring saint; and her last solemn
injunction, for me to look upon her grave when I came to be a man, and
remember her who had loved me as a son. Had I done this? Oh, no! The
world had obliterated her pure and holy image from my mind, and all her
tenderness and love had been forgotten.

"I stood there before her daughter, whose mind was a perfect transcript
of her own, a stricken, self-condemned creature, overcome by emotions
which I struggled in vain to repress.

"Margaret perceived the advantage she had gained, and taking my passive
hand led me from the room.

"Slowly we paced, up the marble staircase into the drawing-room, where
we found Sir Alexander reading at a table. He did not raise his head as
we entered; and I could not help remarking the great change which a few
years had effected in his appearance. His fine chestnut hair was nearly
gray, his cheeks had lost the rich vermilion tint which had always
given such lustre to his fine dark eyes, and clear olive complexion. He
was much thinner, and his lofty figure had taken a decided stoop
between the shoulders. The handsome, generous baronet was but the wreck
of what he once had been.

"'Papa,' said Margaret, stepping forward, and laying her small white
hand upon his shoulder, 'I have taken the liberty of introducing a very
old friend.'

"The baronet raised his eyes. The blood rushed into his pale face, as
he replied with great asperity of look and tone, 'Margaret, you have
taken an unfair advantage, and abused the confidence I reposed in you;
I did not expect this from you.'

"'Dearest father, you have suffered my cousin Theophilus to prejudice
you against one whom you once loved--whom my dear mother loved: let him
speak for himself.'

"'Well, sir,' said the Baronet, holding out his hand, 'what have you to
say in extenuation of your past conduct? You found it convenient, no
doubt, to forget an old friend.'

"'My excellent, kind benefactor,' I cried, pressing his hand warmly
between my own, 'how can you imagine me guilty of such base
ingratitude?'

"'I judge your feelings, young man, by deeds, not by words. It is not
for a boyish act of indiscretion I blame you. You thrashed an insolent
lad of your own age for insulting you; and in your place I would have
done the same. To appease his wounded pride, I demanded of you an
apology, as the lad was my guest and near kinsman--no very great
sacrifice of pride, one would have thought, to a penniless pensioner on
my bounty. This, you audaciously refused, and, without waiting for my
anger to cool (for I was not acquainted at the time with the real
circumstances of the case) you abandoned your home, and sought
protection in the house of my enemy--a man who had thwarted me in every
way which lay in his power. His favour you gained by traducing your
benefactor and friend; and you now come to me, after the lapse of
years, to make a boast of your wealth. Philip Mornington!' he cried,
rising from his seat, and drawing himself up to his full height, 'I
loved you as a spirited, independent boy: I despise you, as a wealthy,
treacherous, vain-glorious man!'

"'Dear papa,' said Margaret, greatly agitated, 'you cannot mean what
you say.'

"'I do mean what I say. My words are plain and straightforward; let him
refute them if he can.'

"'To such accusations as you have brought against me, Sir Alexander,
there can be but one answer: they are false! I will not, however,
lessen myself by attempting to vindicate my conduct from such base
calumnies, but leave it to time to convince you of your error, and
prove my integrity.'

"Without waiting for his reply, I left the room, with a bearing as
haughty and inflexible as his own, and flinging myself into the saddle,
rode from the Hall. Disgusted with myself for having yielded to the
entreaties of my amiable foster-sister, I could not master my
indignation sufficiently to call at the Lodge, but pursued my journey
to town with a heavy heart.

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