You venture to give the advice, he said. But have you yourself obtained pardon from my father?
Pardon for what? she cried.
For any crime you may have committed, he replied. It is not for me to search your heart!
I disdain to answer such an infamous charge! she rejoined, contemptuously.
Have you not shortened his days?
What mean you by that dark insinuation? she cried.
My meaning is intelligible enough, he rejoined. But I will make it plainer, if you will.
Pardon for what? she cried.
For any crime you may have committed, he replied. It is not for me to search your heart!
I disdain to answer such an infamous charge! she rejoined, contemptuously.
Have you not shortened his days?
What mean you by that dark insinuation? she cried.
My meaning is intelligible enough, he rejoined. But I will make it plainer, if you will.
A singular change come over her countenance.
But she instantly recovered, and threw a scornful glance at Chetwynd.
What have you done to him? he demanded.
Striven to make his latter days happy, she replied, and I believe I have succeeded. At any rate, he seemed happy.
That was before his illness, observed Chetwynd.
Since his illness I have nursed him with so much care that those best able to judge think I preserved his life. I saved him from all pain and annoyance, and his confidence in me was such that he has left all to my management.
I know it, madam; and you have been in haste to assume the power, but it may be wrested from your hands!
Make the attempt, she rejoined, defiantly. You will only injure yourself!
Just then voices were heard outside that startled them both, and checked their converse.
Great heaven, it is your father! exclaimed Mrs. Calverley. He has risen from the bed of death to come here!
Next moment the door was thrown open, and the old gentleman came in, sustained by Norris.
A dressing-gown scarcely concealed his emaciated frame. His features had the most ghastly expression, and bore the impress of death. But for the aid of the old butler he must have fallen to the ground.
Behind him came Mildred, carrying a light.
Why did you allow him to quit his couch? cried his wife, in a voice of anguish.
I remonstrated with him, replied Norris. But I could not prevent him. He would come down to see his son.
I likewise tried to dissuade him, but in vain, said Mildred,
Chetwynd is here, is he not? cried the old man. I cant see him.
Yes, I am here, father, he replied, springing towards him, and throwing himself at his feet. Have you come to grant me forgiveness?
Yes, my son, replied the old man. But first let me hear that you are reconciled to my dear wife your stepmother. Answer me truly. Is it so?
Father! hesitated Chetwynd.
Stand up, my son, said the old man.
Chetwynd obeyed.
Now, speak to me. Is there peace between you?
If you can forgive her, father, I will forgive her.
I have nothing to forgive. She has been the best of wives to me, and is without a fault. These are my last words.
Your blessing, father your blessing! almost shrieked Chetwynd.
The old man made an effort to raise his hands; but strength and utterance failed him, and he fell dead into his sons arms.
BOOK THE FIRST MILDRED
I. SUITORS
She was still at Ouselcroft, and apparently meant to remain there. No change whatever had been made in the establishment, and old Norris was still in his place.
The will had not been disputed, and the widow was in possession of her late husbands entire property.
She intended to allow Chetwynd six hundred a year, in accordance with his fathers request, and instructed Mr Carteret to pay him the amount quarterly; but he peremptorily refused to accept any allowance from her, and ordered the money to be returned.
He had remained at Ouselcroft until after the funeral, and then went abroad. As may be supposed, no reconciliation took place between him and his stepmother.
Hitherto the fair widow had lived in perfect retirement with Mildred, and was only to be seen arrayed in deep mourning in Daresbury Church, in the vaults of which her husband was interred; but she now began to pay visits, and receive her friends.
When Mildred re-appeared in society, after her temporary seclusion, she created quite a sensation.
We are afraid to say how many persons fell in love with her. She was still in mourning, of course, but her dark attire set off her fair tresses and exquisitely delicate complexion, and suited her slight graceful figure. Then her amiable and captivating manner heightened the effect of her charms, and rendered her almost irresistible.
During her fathers lifetime she had been greatly admired, and was accounted, as we have said, the prettiest girl in Cheshire; but her beauty was more talked about now, and many a gallant youth thought himself excessively fortunate if he could obtain her hand for a waltz.
But Mildred was by no means a flirt, and had no desire to make conquests. On the contrary, she was a very quiet girl, and gave the herd of young men who beset her at balls and parties very little encouragement. She did not care to dance much, and would only dance with those who pleased her, or amused her.