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Heriot's Choice

<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> <h3>A YOUTHFUL DRACO AND SOLON</h3> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> 'But thoughtless words may bear a sting Where malice hath no place, May wake to pain some secret sting Beyond thy power to trace. When quivering lips, and flushing cheek, The spirit's agony bespeak, Then, though thou deem thy brother weak, Yet soothe his soul to peace.'—S. A. Storrs. </div> </div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> Things certainly seemed at sixes and sevens, as Roy phrased it, the next morning. The severe emotions of the previous night had resulted in Olive's case in a miserable sick headache, which would not permit her to raise her head from the pillow. Mildred, who had rightly interpreted the meaning of the wistful glance that followed her to the door, had resolved to take the first opportunity of speaking to her nephews separately, and endeavouring to soften their aggrieved feelings towards their sister; by a species of good fortune she met Roy coming out of his father's room. Roy had slept off his mighty mood, and kicked away his sullenness, and an hour of Polly's sunshiny influence had restored him to good humour; and though his brow clouded a little at his aunt's first words, and he broke into a bar of careless whistling in a low and displeased key at the notion of her meditation, yet his better feelings were soon wrought upon by a hint of Olive's sufferings, and he consented, though a little condescendingly, to be the bearer of his own embassage of peace. Olive's heavy eyes filled up with tears when she saw him. 'Dear Rex, this is so kind.' 'I am sorry your head is so bad, Livy,' was the evasive answer, in a sort of good-natured growl. Roy thought it would not do to be too amiable at first. '"You do look precious bad to be sure," as the hangman said to the gentleman he afterwards throttled. Take my advice, Livy,' seating himself astride the rocking-chair, and speaking confidentially, 'medlars, spelt with either vowel, are very rotten things, and though I would not joke for worlds on such an occasion, it behoves us to stick to our national proverbs, and, as you know as well as I, a burnt child dreads the fire.' 'I will try to remember, Rex; I will, indeed; but please make Cardie think I meant it for the best.' 'It was the worst possible best,' replied Roy, gravely, 'and shows what weak understandings you women have—part of the present company excepted, Aunt Milly. "Age before honesty," and all that sort of thing, you know.' 'You incorrigible boy, how dare you be so rude?' 'Don't distress the patient, Aunt Milly. What a weak-eyed sufferer you look, Livy—regularly down in the doleful doldrums. You must have a strong dose of Polly to cheer you up—a grain of quicksilver for every scruple.' Olive smiled faintly. 'Oh, Rex, you dear old fellow, are you sure you forgive me?' 'Very much, thank you,' returned Roy, with a low bow from the rocking-chair. 'And shall be much obliged by your not mentioning it again.' 'Only one word, just——' 'Hush,' in a stentorian whisper, 'on your peril not an utterance—not the ghostly semblance of a word. Aunt Milly, is repentance always such a painful and distressing disorder? Like the immortal Rosa Dartle, "I only ask for information." I will draw up a diagnosis of the symptoms for the benefit of all the meddlesome Matties of futurity—No, you are right, Livy,' as a sigh from Olive reached him; 'she was not a nice character in polite fiction, wasn't Matty—and then show it to Dr. John. Let me see; symptoms, weak eyes and reddish lids, a pallid exterior, with black lines and circles under the eyes, not according to Euclid—or Cocker—a tendency to laugh nervously at the words of wisdom, which, the conscience reprobating, results in an imbecile grin.' 'Oh, Rex, do—please don't—my head does ache so—and I don't want to laugh.' 'All hysteria, and a fresh attack of scruples—that quicksilver must be administered without delay, I see—hot and cold fits—aguish symptoms, and a tendency to incoherence and extravagance, not to say lightheadedness—nausea, excited by the very thought of Dr. Murray—and a restless desire to misplace words—"do—please don't," being a fair sample. I declare, Livy, the disease is as novel as it is interesting.' Mildred left Olive cheered in spite of herself, but with a fresh access of pain, and went in search of Richard. He was sitting at the little table writing. He looked up rather moodily as his aunt entered. 'Breakfast seems late this morning, Aunt Milly. Where is Rex?' 'I left him in Olive's room, my dear;' and as Richard frowned, 'Olive has been making herself ill with crying, and has a dreadful headache, and Roy was kind enough to go and cheer her up.' No answer, only the scratching of the quill pen rapidly traversing the paper. Mildred stood irresolute for a moment and watched him; there was no softening of the fine young face. Chriss was right when she said Richard's lips closed as though they were iron. 'I was sorry to hear what an uncomfortable evening you all had last night, Richard. I should hardly have enjoyed myself, if I had known how things were at home.' 'Ignorance is bliss, sometimes. I am glad you had a pleasant evening, Aunt Milly. I was sorry I could not meet you. I told Rex to go.' 'I found Rex kicking up his heels in the porch instead. Never mind,' as Richard looked annoyed. 'Dr. Heriot brought me home. But, Richard, dear, I am more sorry than I can say about this sad misunderstanding between you and Olive.' 'Aunt Milly, excuse me, but the less said about that the better.' 'Poor girl! I know how her interference has offended you; it was ill-judged, but, indeed, it was well meant. You have no conception, Richard, how dearly Olive loves you.' The pen remained poised above the paper a moment, and then, in spite of his effort, the pent-up storm burst forth. 'Interference! unwarrantable impertinence! How dare she betray me to my father?' 'Betray you, Richard?' 'The very thing I was sparing him! The thing of all others I would not have had him know for worlds! How did she know? What right had she to guess my most private feelings! It is past all forbearance; it is enough to disgust one.' 'It is hard to bear, certainly; but, Richard, the fault is after all a trifling one; the worst construction one can put on it is error of judgment and a simple want of tact; she had no idea she was harming you.' 'Harming me!' still more stormily; 'I shall never get over it. I have lost caste in my father's opinion; how will he be ever able to trust me now? If she had but given me warning of her intention, I should not be in this position. All these months of labour gone for nothing. Questioned, treated as a child—but, were he twenty times my father, I should refuse to be catechised;' and Richard took up his pen again, and went on writing, but not before Mildred had seen positive tears of mortification had sprung to his eyes. They made her feel softer to him—such a lad, too—and motherless—and yet so hard and impracticable—mannish, indeed!' She stooped over him, even venturing to lay a hand on his shoulder. 'Dear Cardie, if you feel she has injured you so seriously, there is all the greater need of forgiveness. You cannot refuse it to one so truly humble. She is already heart-broken at the thought she may have caused mischief.' 'Are you her ambassadress, Aunt Milly?' 'No; you know your sister better. She would not have ventured—at least——' 'I thought not,' he returned coldly. 'I wish her no ill, but, I confess, I am hardly in the mood for true forgiveness just now. You see I am no saint, Aunt Milly,' with a sneer, that sat ill on the handsome, careworn young face, 'and I am above playing the hypocrite. Tender messages are not in my line, and I am sorry to say I have not Roy's forgiving temper.' 'Dear Rex, he is a pattern to us all,' thought Mildred, but she wisely forbore making the irritating comparison; it would certainly not have lightened Richard's dark mood. With an odd sort of tenacity he seemed dwelling on his aunt's last words. 'You are wrong in one thing, Aunt Milly. I do not know my sister. I know Rex, and love him with all my heart; and I understand the foolish baby Chriss, but Olive is to me simply an enigma.' 'Because you have not attempted to solve her.' 'Most enigmas are tiresome, and hardly worth the trouble of solving,' he returned calmly. 'Richard! your own sister! for shame!' indignantly from Mildred. 'I cannot help it, Aunt Milly; Olive has always been perfectly incomprehensible to me. She is the worst sister, and, as far as I can judge, the worst daughter I ever knew. In my opinion she has simply no heart.' 'Perhaps I had better leave you, Richard; you are not quite yourself.' The quiet reproof in Mildred's gentlest tones seemed to touch him. 'I am sorry if I grieve you, Aunt Milly. I wish myself that we had never entered on this subject.' 'I wish it with all my heart, Richard; but I had no idea my own nephew could be so hard.' 'Unhappiness and want of sympathy make a man hard, Aunt Milly. But, all the same,' speaking with manifest effort, 'I am making a bad return for your kindness.' 'I wish you would let me be kind,' she returned, earnestly. 'Nay, my dear boy,' as an impatient frown crossed his face, 'I am not going to renew a vexed subject. I love Olive too well to have her unjustly censured, and you are too prejudiced and blinded by your own troubles to be capable of doing her justice. I only want'—here Mildred paused and faltered—'remember the bruised reed, Richard, and the mercy promised to the merciful. When we come to our last hour, Cardie, and our poor little life-torch is about to be extinguished, I think we shall be thankful if no greater sins are written up against us than want of tact and the error of judgment that comes from over-conscientiousness and a too great love;' and without looking at his face, or trusting herself to say more, Mildred turned to the breakfast-table, where he shortly afterwards joined her. Olive was in such a suffering condition all the morning that she needed her aunt's tenderest attention, and Mildred did not see her brother till later in the day. The reaction caused by 'the Royal magnanimity,' as Mildred phrased it to Dr. Heriot afterwards, had passed into subsequent depression as the hours passed on, and no message reached her from the brother she loved but too well. Mildred feigned for a long time not to notice the weary, wistful looks that followed her about the room, especially as she knew Olive's timidity would not venture on direct questioning, but the sight of tears stealing from under the closed lids caused her to relent. Roy's prescription of quicksilver had wholly failed. Polly, saddened and mystified by the sorrowful spectacle of three-piled woe, forgot all her saucy speeches, and blundered over her sympathising ones. And Chrissy was even worse; she clattered about the room in her thick boots, and talked loudly in the crossest possible key about people being stupid enough to have feelings and make themselves ill about nothing. Chriss soon got her dismissal, but as Mildred returned a little flushed from the summary ejectment which Chriss had playfully tried to dispute, she stooped over the bed and whispered— 'Never mind, dear, it could not be helped; has it made your head worse?' 'Only a little. Chriss is always so noisy.' 'Shall we have Polly back? she is quieter and more accustomed to sickrooms.' 'No, thank you; I like being alone with you best, Aunt Milly, only—' here a large tear dropped on the coverlid. 'You must not fret then, or your nurse will scold. No, indeed, Olive. I know what you are thinking about, but I don't know that having you ill on my hands will greatly mend matters.' 'Cardie,' whispered Olive, unable to endure the suspense any longer, 'did you give him my message?' 'I told him you were far from well; but you know as well as I do, Olive, that there is no dealing with Cardie when he is in one of these unreasonable moods; we must be patient and give him time.' 'I know what you mean, Aunt Milly—you think he will never forgive me.' 'I think nothing of the kind; you must not be so childish, Olive,' returned Mildred, with a little wholesome severity. 'I wish you would be a good sensible girl and go to sleep.' 'I will try,' she returned, in a tone of languid obedience; 'but I have such an ache here,' pressing her hand to her heart, 'such an odd sort of sinking, not exactly pain. I think it is more unhappiness and——' 'That is because the mind acts and reacts on the body; you must quiet yourself, Olive, and put this unlucky misunderstanding out of your thoughts. Remember, after all, who it is "who maketh men to be of one mind in a house;" you have acted for the best and without any selfish motives, and you may safely leave the disentangling of all this difficulty to Him. No, you must not talk any more,' as Olive seemed eager to speak; 'you are flushed and feverish, and I mean to read you to sleep with my monotonous voice;' and in spite of the invalid's incredulous look Mildred so far kept her word that Olive first lost whole sentences, and then vainly tried to fix her attention on others, and at last thought she was in Hillbeck woods and that some doves were cooing loudly to her, at which point Mildred softly laid down the book and stole from the room. As she stood for a moment by the lobby window she saw her brother was taking his evening's stroll in the churchyard, and hastened to join him. He quickened his steps on seeing her, and inquired anxiously after Olive. 'She is asleep now, but I have not thought her looking very well for the last two or three days,' answered his sister. 'I do not think Olive is as strong as the others—she flags sadly at times.' 'All this has upset her; they have told you, I suppose, Mildred?' 'Olive told me last night' 'I do not know that I have ever received a greater shock except one. I hardly had an idea myself how much my hopes were fixed upon that boy, but I am doomed to disappointment.' 'It seems to me he is scarcely to be blamed; think how young he is, only nineteen, and with such abilities.' 'Poor lad; if he only knew how little I blame him,' returned his father with a groan. 'It only shows the amount of culpable neglect of which I have been guilty, throwing him into the society of such a man; but indeed I was not aware till lately that Macdonald was little better than a free-thinker.' Mildred looked shocked—things were even worse than she thought. 'I fancy he has drifted into extremes during the last year or two, for though always a little slippery in his Church views, he had not developed any decided rationalistic tendency; but Betha, poor darling, always disliked him; she said once, I remember, that he was not a good companion for our boys. I do not think she mentioned Richard in particular.' 'Olive told me she had.' 'Perhaps so; she was always so keenly alive to what concerned him. He was my only rival, Milly,' with a sad smile. 'No mother could have been prouder of her boy than she was of Cardie. I am bound to say he deserved it, for he was a good son to her; at least,' with a stifled sigh, 'he did not withhold his confidence from his mother.' 'You found him impracticable then, Arnold?' He shook his head sadly. 'The sin lies on my own head, Milly. I have neglected my children, buried myself in my own pursuits and sorrow, and now I am sorely punished. My son refuses the confidence which his father actually stooped to entreat,' and there was a look of such suppressed anguish on Mr. Lambert's face that Mildred could hardly refrain from tears. 'Richard is always so good to you,' she said at last. 'Do I not tell you I blame myself and not the boy that there is this barrier between us! but to know that my son is in trouble which he will not permit me to share, it is very hard, Mildred.' 'It is wrong, Arnold.' 'Where has the lad inherited his proud spirit! his mother was so very gentle, and I was always alive to reason. I must confess he was perfectly respectful, not to say filial in his manner, was grieved to distress me, would have suffered anything rather than I should have been so harassed; but it was not his fault that people had meddled in his private concerns; you would have thought he was thirty at least.' 'I am sure he meant what he said; there is no want of heart in Richard.' 'He tried to smoothe me over, I could see, hoped that I should forget it, and would esteem it a favour if I would not make it a matter of discussion between us. He had been a little unsettled, how much he refused to say. He could wish with me that he had never been thrown so much with Macdonald, as doubts take seed as rapidly as thistledown; but when I urged and pressed him to repose his doubts in me, as I might possibly remove them, he drew back and hesitated, said he was not prepared, he would rather not raise questions for which there might not be sufficient reply; he thought it better to leave the weeds in a dark corner where they could trouble no one; he wished to work it out for himself—in fact, implied that he did not want my help.' 'I think you must have misunderstood him, Arnold. Who could be better than his own father, and he a clergyman?' 'Many, my dear; Heriot, for example. I find Heriot is not quite so much in the dark as I supposed, though he treats it less seriously than we do; he says it is no use forcing confidence, and that Cardie is peculiar and resents being catechised, and he advises me to send him to Oxford without delay, that he may meet men on his own level and rub against other minds; but I feel loath to do so, I am so in the dark about him. Heriot may be right, or it may be the worst possible thing.' 'What did Richard say himself?' 'He seemed relieved at my proposing it, thanked me, and jumped at the idea, begged that he might go after Christmas; he was wasting his time here, looked pleased and dubious when I proposed his reading for the bar, and then his face fell—I suppose at the thought of my disappointment, for he coloured and said hurriedly that there was no need of immediate decision; he must make up his mind finally whether he should ever take holy orders. At present it was more than probable that——' '"Say at once it is impossible," I interrupted, for the thought of such sacrilege made me angry. "No, father, do not say that," he returned, and I fancied he was touched for the moment. "Don't make up your mind that we are both to disappoint you. I only want to be perfectly sure that I am no hypocrite—that at any rate I am true in what I do. I think she would like that best, father," and then I knew he meant his mother.' 'Dear Arnold, I am not sure after all that you need be unhappy about your boy.' 'I do not distrust his rectitude of purpose; I only grieve over his pride and inflexibility—they are not good bosom-companions to a young man. Well, wherever he goes he is sure of his father's prayers, though it is hard to know that one's son is a stranger. Ah, there comes Heriot, Milly. I suppose he thinks we all want cheering up, as it is not his usual night.' Mildred had already guessed such was the case, and was very grateful for the stream of ready talk that, at supper-time, carried Polly and Chriss with it. Roy had recovered his spirits, but he seemed to consider it a duty to preserve a subdued and injured exterior in his father's presence; it showed remorse for past idleness, and was a delicate compliment to the absent Livy; while Richard sat by in grave taciturnity, now and then breaking out into short sentences when silence was impossible, but all the time keenly cognisant of his father's every look and movement, and observant of his every want. Dr. Heriot followed Mildred out of the room with a half-laughing inquiry how she had fared during the family gale. 'It is no laughing matter, I assure you; we are all as uncomfortable as possible.' 'When Greek meets Greek, you know the rest. You have no idea how dogmatical and disagreeable Mr. Lambert can make himself at times.' This was a new idea to Mildred, and was met with unusual indignation. 'Parents have a notion they can enforce confidence—that the very relationship instils it. Here is the vicar groaning over his son's unfilial reticence and breaking his heart over a fit of very youthful stubbornness which calls itself manly pride, and Richard all the while yearning after his father, but bitter at being treated and schooled like a child. I declare I take Richard's part in this.' 'You ought not to blame my brother,' returned Mildred in a low voice. 'He blames himself, and rightly too. He had no business to have such a man about the house. Richard is a cantankerous puppy not to confide in his father. But what's the good of leading a horse to the water?—you can't make him drink.' 'I begin to think you are right about Richard,' sighed Mildred; 'one cannot help being fond of him, but he is very unsatisfactory. I am afraid I shall never make any impression.' 'Then no one will. Fie! Miss Lambert, I detect a whole world of disappointment in that sigh. What has become of your faith? Half Dick's faultiness comes from having an old head on young shoulders; in my opinion he's worth half a dozen Penny-royals rolled in one.' 'Dr. Heriot, how can you! Rex has the sweetest disposition in the world. I strongly suspect he is his father's favourite.' 'Have you just found that out? It would have done you good to have seen the vicar gloating over Roy's daubs this afternoon, as though they were treasures of art; the rogue actually made him believe that his coffee-coloured clouds, with ragged vermilion edges, were sublime effects. I quite pleased him when I assured him they were supernatural in the truest sense of the word. He wiped his eyes actually, over the gipsy sibyl that I call Roy's gingerbread queen. What a rage the lad put himself in when I said I had never seen such a golden complexion except at a fair booth or in very bad cases of jaundice.' 'How you do delight to tease that boy!' 'Isn't it too bad—ruffling the wings of my "sweet Whistler," as I call him. He is the sort of boy all you women spoil. He only wants a little more petting to become as effeminate as heart can wish. I am half afraid that I shall miss his bright face when a London studio engulfs him.' 'You think my brother will give him his way, then?' 'He has no choice. Besides, he quite believes he has an unfledged Claude Lorraine or Salvator Rosa on his hands. I believe Polly's Dad Fabian is to be asked, and the matter regularly discussed. Poor Lambert! he will suffer a twinge or two before he delivers the boy into the hands of the Bohemians. He turned quite pale when I hinted a year in Rome; but there seems no reason why Roy should not have a regular artistic education; and, after all, I believe the lad has some talent—some of his smaller sketches are very spirited.' 'I thought so myself,' replied Mildred; and the subject of their conversation appearing at this moment, the topic was dropped. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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