Читать книгу Decision, A Tale - Барбара Хофланд - Страница 6

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During the period of which we have been speaking, every thing in the affairs of Mr. Falconer had been gradually growing worse, and the conduct of that partner who was resident abroad, gave too much reason to believe that he was either, as an extravagant man, drawing from the mother country the sources of improper expenditure, or amassing wealth by which to secure himself in possession of certain property, when the affairs of the house should come to a termination by the approaching dissolution of partnership, which would take place at the time when Miss Falconer came of age, a circumstance which it had been understood had some connection with her father's property now in business.

This eventful period was looked to with much anxiety by all the parties concerned, as they had found it impossible to bring Mayton to his duty, but by no person so much as Mrs. Falconer, whose solicitude on her daughter's account had naturally been quickened from observing her artless predilection for a young man, for whom she felt herself the most decided preference. The dreams of ambition she might have had for such a daughter were nearly obliterated by anxiety, and self-reproach which though not venting itself in tears or lamentations had long sat heavy on her heart—the sad secret which preyed there, and was slowly, but certainly, wearing away health and life, was suddenly developed.

One day Mr. Elderton entered at an hour very unusual with him, and wearing a very disturbed countenance; the mother and daughter, were both at the moment engaged in making up some cheap clothing for one of their poor neighbours, but so much were they alike struck by the hurry and perplexity of his countenance, that with one voice they enquired, "what was the matter?"

"The house of Krentzers have failed in Dantzic, by which I shall lose a large sum of money, and I am obliged to set out without an hour's delay. So I ran forward to bid you good bye."

"Krentzers!" exclaimed Mrs. Falconer, "surely Frank spoke of them as being people with whom Mr. Mayton ought to lodge money."

"Very likely—we all think of ourselves first—but I certainly ought to have told you what I learnt as I came hither, that poor Ingalton died about an hour ago in Frank's arms, whilst Falconer was (according to his daily custom) reading him the letters,"—"perhaps—I really fear—it looks as if this bad news had something to do with it."

"Poor Frank!" exclaimed Maria, bursting into tears. Mrs. Falconer neither spoke, nor wept, but she looked on the point of fainting, and yet exerted herself to ring the bell and order the carriage to be got ready immediately.

"You are going to poor Mrs. Ingalton, mamma, I will go with you," said Maria.

"No my love you must not, I must see your father, I must enquire into all these distressing circumstances."

Maria was on the point of saying "Mr. Elderton will go with you," for she did not like her mother to depart evidently ill alone, when undergoing much internal agitation, but she saw that she preferred being alone at this moment, and was well aware that although a very friendly man in the main, he was by no means a gentle binder of bleeding wounds; Mrs. Falconer, therefore, departed, without taking Mr. E. although his hat was in his hand to set out for B—— also.

"Surely," said Maria, reverting to this bad news, "you will not lose much, my dear sir?"

"I shall not be ruined by it, Maria, certainly, but I shall lose at one stroke the profits of many years' labour, which is provoking enough; n'importe, I am a bachelor, and my habits are not expensive."

"That is a great comfort at a time like this," said Maria, following the glance of his eye around the elegantly furnished room in which she sat—"I confess I should be more distressed for Mrs. Ingalton than you, were she, in addition to her widowhood, to lose her property too, what would become of her and the girls?"

"Think for yourself—your mother, Maria—she has a brother, a son, and the circumstance of her widowhood will raise her friends—but you, I tremble for you, I confess I do."

"You are very good, but I think there is no comparison in the case, if my father were even ruined in his business, which God forbid should be the case, my mother's property undoubtedly"——

"Has your mother property? are you sure of that?"

"I am sure of nothing, but I understood our estates in Wales were hers, and I always concluded"——

"Pshaw!—you concluded—you ought to have known, you had an undoubted right to know—you who have a better head for business than one man in a thousand—who were born heiress to two old estates in two different countries—I have no patience with any of ye—and so at this time of day when you must be a long way past eighteen, you don't know whether your mother really has property left, or whether your father has made ducks and drakes of it, in the same manner as he did with his own?"

Maria drew up her head haughtily, as if to say "beware how you speak of my parents."

"Nay, nay, Maria, look not thus on me. I honour your feelings, but there are points in life where all feeling whether of delicacy, tenderness, or even what you erroneously deem duty, should be compelled to give way before the more imperious dictates of that positive duty, common honesty, and common sense. It is said in the town, that your mother unhappily holding her own settlement, has been induced from time to time to give up property over which it gave her power—in fact, I know that about two years since she did so to a great amount, and I fear she has little, very little left."

"It is so!—it must be so!" said Maria, in a voice scarcely articulate with the agitation awakened by recollections that rushed to her mind—"I remember well, when she had that long low fever on the spirits before you came home—yes, yes, she used to weep bitterly whenever she saw me, and has even yet never recovered—Frank and I used"——

"Frank and you! dear Maria, allow me to ask you one more question."

"No, no, I can answer no more," said Maria, blushing, trembling, and gasping for breath.

"But there is no engagement?"

"Oh! no, no—certainly no engagement."

Maria covered her face with her hands as she spoke, but the throbbings of her heart, the universal pulsation of her frame, bespoke the severity of her sensations which were indescribably painful, and had she possessed the power of flight, she would certainly have fled. Mr. Elderton instantly quitted the subject, but he reverted to that which preceded it, and urged her to constrain herself to probe the wound which he could not doubt was rankling at her mother's heart, so far as to discover the actual state of her future dependance, for the express purpose of securing the little which might remain, "As, otherwise," said he, "depend upon it you will see her reduced to the most abject poverty from which your father will not be able to rescue her, for never have I yet seen a man of his sanguine temper, who was not completely overthrown in the day of actual want."

"I will work for them—beg for them"——

"Work you may my love, but beg you cannot, no not even for them. I would not have talked to you thus, even yesterday, but situated as I now am, I can only give good advice—promise me you will act with resolution, that you will endure to give pain to those you love, in itself the most terrible of all pains—it is an imperative duty and"——

Maria rose slowly from her seat—she waived her hand, and he ceased to speak, but in another minute, she said in a solemn tone,

"I will perform it—I would be thankful to escape it, but for her sake I can do any thing."

Mr. Elderton took his leave, trying to whisper such words as, "Report may have made the worst of it, I trust you will save something yet," but Maria heard them not, and the door had closed on him before she recovered from the stunning blows she had received; the torrent of terrible thoughts which had overwhelmed her at a period when she had been wrapt in that oblivion to all outward circumstances, unconnected with its own object, which a timid yet all engrossing passion, spreads over a tender and youthful bosom.

Yet, when the stupor occasioned by this blow somewhat subsided, Maria was sensible that her mind was formed to endure—that she had not less fortitude and energy, than sensibility, and she endeavoured to recall that vigour of spirit which she was sensible of possessing at a period when her understanding was less mature than now. Alas! these recollections but served to shew her the sad state of her own heart—the heart which even in this moment of alarm for her parents, yet beat high for another also, she felt that his sorrows were amongst those lamented the most sincerely, and that every hope for the future was closely intermingled with him.

Maria had paced the apartment in which she was left for several hours, unconscious how time was passing, when the return of the carriage roused her, and she began hastily to reconsider her promise, and her plans for the future, but all were alike put to flight by the appearance of their usual medical attendant, who, alighting from the carriage, entered the house, to prepare her for receiving her father in an alarming state—all she could learn was, that certain letters announcing the loss by shipwreck of Mr. Mayton, the bankruptcy already spoken of, and the death of poor Mr. Ingalton, at a time when his spirits were so much agitated, had produced an apoplectic fit, in which he had been held for some hours, and which had placed his life in the greatest jeopardy.

In such a moment all error, and even all sorrow was forgotten, save that which arose from sympathy in the sufferings of her father, and the grief of her mother; for many days, Maria watched by the bed-side of the invalid, with an anxiety and solicitude, scarcely exceeded by that of the fond and wretched wife, but which was far more efficaciously evinced. Her powers of mind appeared to have reached a sudden maturity under the alarming pressure of the time, and to combine a power of recollection, which gave the benefit of experience and of self-possession, and rendered the cares of affection really beneficial to their object—happy power for the alarmed, distracted mother of Maria, was at this period almost wholly helpless, alternately suffering from the agonies of grief, and overwhelmed with the stupor and exhaustion consequent upon them.

When Mr. Falconer crept down stairs after a long confinement, he appeared to have added twenty years of age to his bending, attenuated form, and the high health and manly beauty for which (together with the flow of spirits) he had been hitherto remarkable, rendered the change impressive, even to the most careless observer. His servants started when they heard the "childish treble" of his voice, and his friends considered that he had been "killed in the cure," and the tone in which they congratulated him on his convalescence, bespoke their actual fears for his state. His first appearance, however, called upon a third class, who pressed round him the more earnestly, because they were not likely to have him long to press, if report from the others could be relied on.

These were his creditors, and those of the house which he now solely represented, and who naturally enquired in what their future security consisted. Mr. Falconer saw all who approached him, laid before them those letters which spoke of the failure of the bank in question, by which it appeared also that a large sum of money had actually been amassed there, which doubtless Mr. Mayton was about to bring for the relief of the house. All were satisfied, that, but for misfortunes none could foresee, notwithstanding past deficiences, no wrong had been intended, but they earnestly pressed the propriety of sending some person over immediately to Dantzic for the purpose of ascertaining the extent of the evil, and securing any further debt that might possibly remain there.

It was evident that Frank alone could be that person, since Mr. Falconer was utterly unequal to the task, and as much time had already passed, it was now settled that the traveller elect should lose not an hour in setting out—and agreeable with every trait of worth which he had hitherto displayed, the young gentleman professed his readiness to obey their wishes.

Maria's heart sunk as she heard of this determination, but she saw its propriety, and only lamented that her young friend had not the benefit of her old friend's advice and assistance, in a scene which she was well aware he was at present ill calculated to encounter. No endeavours had hitherto been spared by young Ingalton, to make himself a man of business, but he had not yet shaken off the air of a student, though he had attained the routine of counting house avocations; and his consciousness of this prevented him from assuming either the knowledge or activity which he possessed. In all the tender offices of an exemplary son, the ceaseless attentions of a warm hearted friend, he moved between the two houses so painfully situated as one whose presence inspired support and consolation, but he entered the scene of his compelled avocations with a constrained and timid air, as one whose duties were yet to learn. Maria, tenderly as her heart was drawn towards him, was too quick to discern every peculiarity in those around not to be aware of this, and in the evening when he came to bid them farewel, wished to say something which should encourage him to have more self-reliance. She had known that he had benefitted from her advice in many other instances, and never surely had he required a stimulus more than now, yet she found it impossible to speak to him.

Frank was not only evidently oppressed with sorrow that he controlled with the utmost difficulty, but with something that pressed upon his spirits beyond, or distinct from the trouble which belonged to his disagreeable and probably fruitless journey, his eyes were continually bent towards the door, he started at the slightest sound, repeatedly opened his mouth as if beginning to ask a question, which yet died upon his lips, and at length rushed away in extreme agitation above an hour before it appeared necessary, as if he had recollected something concerning his luggage, but his heart was too full to admit of explanations on trivial subjects.

Before he could have reached the garden gate, Maria also had closed the door in her own room, and tears were streaming from her eyes, whilst blessings and prayers for his safety murmured from her lips. When the first transport of grief had subsided, a soothing emotion stole over her mind, and allayed that sense of solicitude which had long pressed on her spirits, and damped much of the vivacity which was natural to her.—"Surely there was in the manners of Frank this evening a restlessness of grief that resembled her own feelings—in his sorrow, there was a tenderness, an alarm, an indefinite something—Had we been alone"—Maria blushed, as she whispered these words, but her colour as quickly receded on recollecting that they had been alone, during which time he had earnestly recommended his mother to her care—"excellent youth! he thought only of his widowed parent, even at a moment so important to himself"—she remembered also how he started with an air of disappointment on her father's entrance—in fact, his manners abundantly spoke distress and embarrassment; it had been so great that he had forgotten to leave even a single adieu to poor Ellen.

If, however, the apprehended, the desired cause of this confusion did indeed affect Frank, it was not less evident that the same sense of duty which had so long kept him silent still operated, and would continue to do so, so long as the unhappy affairs in which both families were involved continued, and which there was but too much reason to fear would blight for ever the tender hopes of love. "Frank" said Maria, "has nobly made himself a sacrifice for his family; alas! mine is perhaps little better situated, ought I not to follow his example?"

The how this could be done now perpetually occupied her mind, and since Mr. Falconer was now seldom able to go to B——, yet frequently obliged to receive visits of business, Maria became an eager listener to all conversations connected with subjects, which till now she would naturally have fled from. By slow degrees Mr. Falconer's health returned, but that of Mrs. Falconer was extremely delicate; yet she continued to shew every attention true friendship could suggest to her widowed friend, and often wept over her situation, saying, "that when Frank returned something must be done to lessen her expenditure—she must leave the house."

"She can remove from her present house," said Maria, "better, during his absence, I should think, than when he is at home—why subject him to the pain of witnessing her pain? she has no other dependence, and should rather spare him than use him on slight occasions!"

"But they are all females you know, Maria, what can women do?"

"Every thing, dear mother, which rational and accountable creatures are called to do; woman can cast accounts, estimate expences, contrive where to spend, and where to spare, for every housekeeper does it. She can endure toil, for in humble life, the most delicate encounter a daily portion of it, and in high life, the love of pleasure leads many to adopt it. That woman can sustain much, as well as suffer much, poor Mrs. Ingalton is herself a proof, since for years she was an unwearied attendant on a sick husband; why then should she so underrate her own powers as to delay for an hour the arrangement of her affairs—in fact, she ought to go out of her house into a smaller, and we ought to go into it, which would enable my poor father to see after things."

Mrs. Falconer did not reply.

"If we were to part with the carriage, horses, and dogs, with one man, and two maids,—dispense of course with the gardener, and let his cottage and our house, we should"——

"Dear Maria how you talk! your father could not exist in any town, does he not always speak of a street as if it were a prison? were we not all born to consider carriages and horses as the necessaries of life? and pray do not you love the dogs better than any body—you could not walk without Sancho, Mayflower and the Poodle, and poor Vixen is Frank Ingalton's pet."

The name and the inference silenced Maria at the moment, but since she had so far broken the ice as to give her mother some idea of what was passing in her mind, without eliciting either anger or grief, she determined to venture on the subject again, under cover of poor Mrs. Ingalton's name, and one day when it was broached before her father, had the satisfaction to hear him say, "that although he did not like his wife to be without the carriage, yet he believed it would be as well to part with it, especially as it was seldom used of late."

Mrs. Falconer instantly renounced all desire for it; and Maria saw that which she had always apprehended was indeed the case, that her mother could at all times renounce every luxury without a sigh, if it would add to her father's ease, and doubted not but that his regard for her, had prevented him from doing on the other hand that which his circumstances required. Her heart bled to think that two persons so amiable, so attached, should yet have placed themselves in a situation where even their affection would add to the difficulties by which they were surrounded.