It was not many weeks after this departure of Lord Ravenel's--the pain of which was almost forgotten in the comfort of Guy's first long home letter,which came about this time--that John one morning,suddenly dropping his newspaper,exclaimed:
"Lord Luxmore is dead."
Yes,he had returned to his dust,this old bad man;so old,that people had begun to think he would never die.He was gone;the man who,if we owned an enemy in the world,had certainly proved himself that enemy.Something peculiar is there in a decease like this--of one whom,living,we have almost felt ourselves justified in condemning,avoiding--perhaps hating.Until Death,stepping in between,removes him to another tribunal than this petty justice of ours,and laying a solemn finger on our mouths,forbids us either to think or utter a word of hatred against that which is now--what?--a disembodied spirit--a handful of corrupting clay.
Lord Luxmore was dead.He had gone to his account;it was not ours to judge him.We never knew--I believe no one except his son ever fully knew--the history of his death-bed.
John sat in silence,the paper before him,long after we had passed the news and discussed it,not without awe,all round the breakfast-table.
Maud stole up--hesitatingly,and asked to see the announcement of the earl's decease.
"No,my child;but you shall hear it read aloud,if you choose."I guessed the reason of his refusal;when,looking over him as he read,I saw,after the long list of titles owned by the new Earl of Luxmore,one bitter line;how it must have cut to the heart of him whom we first heard of as "poor William!""HAD LIKEWISE ISSUE,CAROLINE,MARRIED IN 17--,TO RICHARD BRITHWOOD,ESQUIRE,AFTERWARDS DIVORCED."And by a curious coincidence,about twenty lines further down I read among the fashionable marriages:
"AT THE BRITISH EMBASSY,PARIS,SIR GERARD VERMILYE,BART.TO THEYOUTHFUL AND BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER OF--"
I forget who.I only saw that the name was not her name,of whom the "youthful and beautiful"bride had most likely never heard.He had not married Lady Caroline.
This morning's intelligence brought the Luxmore family so much to our thoughts,that driving out after breakfast,John and I involuntarily recurred to the subject.Nay,talking on,in the solitude of our front seat--for Mrs.Halifax,Miss Halifax,and Mrs.Edwin Halifax,in the carriage behind,were deep in some other subject--we fell upon a topic which by tacit consent had been laid aside,as in our household we held it good to lay aside any inevitable regret.
"Poor Maud!how eager she was to hear the news to-day.She little thinks how vitally it might have concerned her.""No,"John answered thoughtfully;then asked me with some abruptness,"Why did you say 'poor Maud'?"I really could not tell;it was a mere accident,the unwitting indication of some crotchets of mine,which had often come into my mind lately.Crotchets,perhaps peculiar to one,who,never having known a certain possession,found himself rather prone to over-rate its value.But it sometimes struck me as hard,considering how little honest and sincere love there is in the world,that Maud should never have known of Lord Ravenel's.
Possibly,against my will,my answer implied something of this;for John was a long time silent.Then he began to talk of various matters;telling me of many improvements he was planning and executing,on his property,and among his people.In all his plans,and in the carrying out of them,I noticed one peculiarity,strong in him throughout his life,but latterly grown stronger than ever--namely,that whatever he found to do,he did immediately.
Procrastination had never been one of his faults;now,he seemed to have a horror of putting anything off even for a single hour.
Nothing that could be done did he lay aside until it was done;his business affairs were kept in perfect order,each day's work being completed with the day.And in the thousand-and-one little things that were constantly arising,from his position as magistrate and land-owner,and his general interest in the movements of the time,the same system was invariably pursued.In his relations with the world outside,as in his own little valley,he seemed determined to "work while it was day."If he could possibly avoid it,no application was ever unattended to;no duty left unfinished;no good unacknowledged;no evil unremedied,or at least unforgiven.
"John,"I said,as to-day this peculiarity of his struck me more than usual,"thou art certainly one of the faithful servants whom the Master when He cometh will find watching.""I hope so.It ought to be thus with all men--but especially with me."I imagined from his tone that he was thinking of his responsibility as father,master,owner of large wealth.How could I know--how could I guess--beyond this!
"Do you think she looks pale,Phineas?"he asked suddenly.
"Who--your wife?"
"No--Maud.My little Maud."
It was but lately that he called her "his"little Maud;since with that extreme tenacity of attachment which was a part of his nature--refusing to put any one love in another love's place--his second daughter had never been to him like the first.Now,however,I had noticed that he took Maud nearer to his heart,made her more often his companion,watching her with a sedulous tenderness--it was easy to guess why.
"She may have looked a little paler of late,a little more thoughtful.But I am sure she is not unhappy.""I believe not--thank God!"
