A few weeks after the return of Mr. Phillips with his family, his sister Harriett, and our friends Jane and Elsie to London, where the courtship, or rather dangling, of Mr. Brandon was going on in the same uninteresting manner, but with no apparent jar to prevent its leading to matrimony at last, Jane was surprised by the sight of her cousin Francis, who said he had come to the metropolis, chiefly for the purpose of seeing her.
"I called at Peggy Walker's, before I left Scotland;" said Francis, "but the family write to you so frequently that I suppose you know all the news. The old man is looking very ill, however; I was quite struck by the change in his appearance. I do not think that situation healthy; I feel very glad you and Elsie have both left it. How is Elsie getting on with Mrs. Phillips?"
"Tolerably—only tolerably. But her health is better—decidedly better."
"And you, Jane, you are looking much better than when I saw you in Edinburgh last."
"You have not written to me at such length about your cottages and your allotments as I expected, Francis. I suppose you are too busy to have time to write, but now you have come; we can talk over all these matters."
It had not been voluntarily, or without a great effort, that Francis had so much slackened his close correspondence with Jane; but her letters were so cheerful, she seemed so busy and hopeful, she saw so many people, and appeared to be so much appreciated by Mr. Phillips and by all his family, that he had no hope of her allowing him to make the sacrifice he longed to make, and he thought he must try to accustom himself to look on her as lost to him.
"I have been busy," said he, "but I do not attempt to excuse myself by such a reason. I have not given you answers at all worthy of your letters."
"I have always thought that it is considered the great art in a gentleman's letter that he should put a great deal of matter in few words, while a lady piques herself on making an excellent letter out of nothing. If your letters were shorter than mine, they were not, on that account, unsatisfactory," said Jane.
"Your observation of character and manners is so much more acute than mine, that you can see and hear nothing which you cannot photograph faithfully, and make an interesting picture of, and you seem to have interesting people to write about," said Francis.
"I do not think that if I had been at Cross Hall, and you in London, my letters would have been the longest. Our old neighbours were very uninteresting—do you not find them so?"
"All except Miss Thomson, whose acquaintance I have recently made, and who has enough of originality and goodness about her to give some salt to the district. She is much interested in both of you; especially in Elsie, whom she saw at Mrs. Dunn's, and got to make something for her, which has given the greatest satisfaction."
"I must tell this to Elsie," said Jane; "she needs a little praise, and it does her good."
"But I want first to consult you about a letter I received the day before I left home," said Francis. This was his excuse for exposing himself to Jane's influence again. The thing might have been done by letter, but he scarcely though it could be so well done; so he had first seen Mr. McFarlane in Edinburgh, and then hastened to London to ask the advice of the dearest friend he had in the world on the subject of this ill-written and ill-expressed letter. It ran as follows:
"Melbourne, 20th April, 185-.
"My Dear Son Frank,
"I have heard that you are come into the property at last. I knew he could not keep it from you, though he wanted to, for you was the hair, and had the rights to get it. I hope you will not forget a mother that has always remembered you, though I was forced to part from you when you was very little, so you will scarce know my face again. I would not stand in your light, and it has turned out all right for you.
"I had an allowance of a hundred and fifty pounds a year from him as long as he lived, and when it stopped I made some inquiry, and found that you had got Cross Hall and all that he had. I think that I should have got some notice of his being dead, but I am quite used to being neglected. I hope you will not let me be any poorer, but the contrary, for I have been a better mother to you than many a one as makes more fuss. It was him as would not let me keep you, and drove me away to Australia. I would come to see you now that he is out of the way, but I cannot afford the expense. If I had not met with such ungrateful conduct from them as ought to have provided for me, I might have been rich enuf; but it is a bad world, and the longer I live, I see that it gets worse and worse. It will be for your advantage to keep friendly with me, and at any rate you will do as much as your father did, which was little enuf, God knows. But I expect as the baby that I loved so dear will be a good kind son to me now you have come into the property.
"Address to Mrs. Peck, care of Henry Talbot, Esq., solicitor, —— Street, Melbourne. I was not allowed to keep my own name or to take his, and so everybody knows me by the name of Mrs. Peck, but I am really and truly your afexionate mother.
"Elizabeth Hogarth."
"P.S. Send me an answer and a remittance by the first mail. I am very badly off and need money."
Jane read this letter twice over, and looked at the address and the postmark carefully.
"What do you think of it?" said he, anxiously.
"Have you asked Mr. McFarlane if he thinks this letter genuine?"
"He never saw any of Elizabeth Hogarth's writing. Any communication which my father received from her, he must have destroyed at once."
"Did he know anything of the 150 pounds a year?"
"He thought it probable some money was paid to keep her at a distance, but did not know anything as to how much it was, or when it was sent."
"Is there any trace in the banking transactions of my uncle of such a payment being remitted regularly to Australia?"
"I can see nothing of the kind. I looked over some old books with that intention, but your uncle's books were not by any means so minute and methodical as yours. He drew large sums and did not record how he spent them, whereas your housekeeping books are models of accurate accounts. I hope Mr. Phillips appreciates your talents in this line?"
"Quite sufficiently, I assure you. But with regard to this letter—what was Mr. McFarlane's advice on the subject?" asked Jane.
"To take no notice whatever of it; for that it would only bring trouble and discredit on me if she was no impostor, and be a very foolish thing if she was. He says that he had mentioned to my father, when he was making his will, that in all probability the widow, if left out of the will, would come upon the heir, and extort something very handsome from him; but that Mr. Hogarth had said sternly that she could not do it, for she had not a scrap of evidence that she dared bring forward to prove that she had ever been his wife. That he had no objection to provide handsomely for me, for I had proved that I was worthy of it; but for her, she had been a thorn in his side all his life; that he had done all for her that he meant to do, and all that she expected him to do. This made Mr. McFarlane think that he had given her a sum of money to get rid of her claims, and not a yearly allowance. She had certainly parted with me for money, and took no further care for my happiness. Mr. McFarlane never told me this before, but he wished to put me on my guard about this letter."
"My uncle, certainly, must have been a good deal excited when he made his will," said Jane.
"Mr. McFarlane says he certainly was so, and has no doubt he would have altered it had he lived a little longer—provided you had not married Mr. Dalzell, which was his great fear for you."
"Do you feel disposed, then, to answer this letter, or to prosecute any inquiries?"
"The whole affair is full of such unmitigated bitterness," said Francis, "that I shrink from stirring it up; but yet I certainly ought to know if this woman is my mother or not. Should not I, Jane? I rely on your judgment."
"It is your affair, Francis, not mine. I can scarcely dare to advise."
"What would you do under such circumstances?"
"I cannot tell what, with your character, I would do under such circumstances," said Jane.
"But with your character, which is a thousand times better than mine, my dear Jane? Only think for me. Things have been taken so much out of my hands by this detestable will, that I seem to lose the power of judging altogether on any matter that relates to it. I cannot aid when I most wish to do it. My father did not positively forbid me to assist my mother. I suppose, if he had done so, it would have raised as vehement a desire to that course of action as I now feel to oppose all his other prohibitions."
The expression of Francis' face was earnest—almost impassioned—as it turned towards Jane. She felt now that there was a reason for his apparent coolness—a reason that made her heart beat fast and her eyes fill. She did not speak for a few moments till she felt that her voice would not betray her, and then said:
"Since you ask my advice, I will give it, such as it is. I think I should in your circumstances make some inquiries; and you have come to the place where you are most likely to have them answered. I dare say Mr. Phillips knows Mr. Talbot, for I have heard his name in conversation; and if you have no objections to telling him about this letter, he could write—or, better still, Mr. Brandon, who talks of returning very soon, could make personal inquiries about this Mrs. Peck. It is quite possible she may be an impostor; for a good deal has been said in the newspapers about your inheriting Cross Hall, and she evidently has not got the right account of the story. She supposes you get it as heir-at-law, and not by will. It is an easy way of extorting money, to give out that one is a near relation of yours, and especially one of whom you have cause to be ashamed. Her story of a yearly allowance does not agree with Mr. McFarlane's impression either; but that may be policy—not positive unfounded fabrication. The orthography of this letter is not good; but the expressions are more like vulgar English than Scotch. Your mother's name was Scotch; and it was, at all events, a Scotch marriage. Will you speak to Mr. Phillips on this subject. He is kind, sensible, and discreet."
"Yes, I will. You think I ought to do so?"
"He is at home just now. Suppose I ask him to come to see you?"
Francis agreed, and was pleased with the kind reception which Jane's employer gave to him, as her cousin. He praised Miss Melville very highly, and said that in every point of view she was a treasure in his house. He then gave slighter praise to Elsie; but still spoke very feelingly of the position of both girls.
After a few such remarks, Francis asked Mr. Phillips if he knew Mr. Talbot, a solicitor in Melbourne.
"Yes, by sight and by reputation very well; but he was not a personal acquaintance of mine. Mr. Brandon was a client of his, and so was Peggy Walker; they could give you any information about him you might require."
"I suppose it is of no use asking you such a question—but do you know anything of a woman called Mrs. Peck—Elizabeth Peck, a client of——?"
The expression of Mr. Phillips's face stopped Francis' hesitating disclosure.
"Have nothing to do with her," said he—"a bad one, if ever there was one on this earth. Good Heavens! what am I to hear next?"
"She says she is my mother," said Francis.
"Perhaps it is not the same woman," said Mr. Phillips. "Your mother! that must be a very old story; you look to be forty, or thereabouts. It must be a different person."
The trouble of Mr. Phillips's manner was undergoing some improvement. He walked across the room two or three times, and then said more steadily:
"Has she written to you? Would you let me see the hand writing?" The address was in a different hand from the letter itself, so Francis could not but show Mr. Phillips the body of the letter.
"May I read it? It is a delicate matter, I know; but I will be secret—secret as the grave."
Mr. Hogarth assented, and Mr. Phillips read the letter through, and then returned it.
"She says she is your mother, and for this very reason I believe she is not, for if ever there was a woman possessed with the spirit of falsehood, she is that woman. Mr. Hogarth, take no notice of her—do not answer her letter—send her no money; she is not so poor as she represents herself to be. I am glad you asked me about her, and no one else."
"Who is she? what is she?" was rising to Francis' lips, but the sight of Mr. Phillips's evident suffering checked his questions. After a short pause, he said that Miss Melville had advised him to consult Mr. Phillips.
"Good God! did you say anything about this to Miss Melville?" said Mr. Phillips.
"Yes, I did! I came to consult her on the letter, but it will go no further; let us call her back. Where is she?" said Francis.
"In the drawing-room," said Mr. Phillips, ringing the bell violently, "with Mrs. Phillips and Harriett, and Brandon, who has just come in. Alice is out on some errand, I believe; so that Miss Melville cannot speak to her, and she surely will not speak on your private matters to my wife and sister."
Jane was soon brought back to the breakfast-room, in which she had left her cousin with Mr. Phillips, and was surprised at the disturbed looks of both gentlemen.
"Mr. Hogarth has asked me about a person in Melbourne, whom I know to be an arrant cheat and liar. Her assertions in this letter are, no doubt, false; it is in keeping with her character that they should be so. He will take no further notice of the matter; and I hope and trust that her name will never pass your lips even to your sister, while under my roof, or even after you have left it. Mr. Hogarth, you will do us the honour to dine with us to-morrow, at half past six? Mrs. Phillips and I will be most happy to see you"—and so saying Mr. Phillips hurriedly left the room, leaving Jane and Francis in the greatest bewilderment.
"I am not so sure that this Mrs. Peck is not my mother, for Mr. Phillips's opinion of her is exactly the same as my father's; but I think I will inquire no further. If inquiry is to grieve and annoy the best friend you have ever had, I will ask no questions. She may write again when she finds she gets no answer, and bring forward something more tangible than these vague allegations. But is this Mr. Phillips a passionate or vindictive man?"
"Quite the contrary. I never saw him agitated in this way before. He is of a remarkably easy temper—most indulgent to those around him."
"He is kind both to you and to Elsie?"
"Very kind indeed, and very considerate. If Mrs. Phillips were as much so, we would both be very comfortable indeed," said Jane.
"Does she show you any temper?" asked Francis.
"No, she dares not do it; for I am useful, and save her much trouble, and I have so much confidence in myself that I will not be interfered with; but poor Elsie is so diffident, so humble, so anxious to please, that she is constantly imposed on by an ignorant, thoughtless woman. Every one imposes on Elsie. Miss Phillips is inconsiderate, too, though she should know better. The servants impose on her, and the children, too—though she is so fond of the children, that I think on the whole they do her good."
"Do not you find that Elsie being here in such a capacity makes your superintendence of the servants more difficult?" asked Francis.
"Yes; I require to be more circumspect and more firm; but my life is quite easy, compared to hers. If I could only restore Elsie to that moderately good opinion which she used to have of herself in her more prosperous days, a great grief would be taken off my heart. I am the strongest, why should not I have the most to bear?"
"Have you tried her poems in London personally?"
"I have, but without success, and she has quite lost the wish to have them published. Your good opinion of her verses only gave her a little temporary encouragement."
"She writes none now, I suppose?"
"She has no time even if she had the inclination. Mrs. and Miss Phillips keep her so busy that I have difficulty in getting her out in the middle of the day to join me and the children in our walk or drive; but that the doctor insisted on as absolutely necessary, and I will not allow her to be deprived of it. He took quite a fancy to Elsie, and showed her much kindness. You ought to go to see him for your father's sake. But as to Elsie's poetry, she does nothing in this way except improvising to the children in the evening, as she is sitting at work. When they found out that she could, as they said, 'make verses up out of her own head,' they think all their stories should be transferred into ballads, and either said or sung to them. They are honest in their admiration of the talent, but rather exacting in their demands for its exercise; on the whole, I think, however, that it does her good, and I know the children are fonder of her than of me. I am so glad to see her preferred."
"Do you see much of Mr. Brandon? Could not he restore your sister to the self-appreciation so essential to happiness and contentment?"
Jane shook her head. "He is devoting himself to Miss Phillips, and Elsie scarcely ever sees him."
"One consequence of her taking this situation," said Francis, somewhat impatiently. "I fancy he admired her when I saw him at Peggy Walker's, months ago, and that he only wanted to be more in her society to have the impression deepened. Did you not think so?"
"His admiration went a little way, but not far," said Jane.
"Not so far as to lead to a proposal?" said Francis.
"People are generally far gone before they reach that point," said Jane, hoping to escape thus from a rather searching question; but a look from Francis, very sad, yet very pleasing to herself, made her change the subject altogether. She liked to believe that she was very dear to him; they could never marry; there was far too much to forbid it—duty, interest, near relationship. Francis' life and career were too important to be tacked to any woman's apron-strings, even though that woman was herself, and the plans she had so much delighted in she could see worthily carried out. She would not be the hindrance and stumbling-block to any good life, and least of all to his. But, until he met with a woman to be his wife and helpmate, she rejoiced to feel that she was first in his heart. When that event took place, as it ought to do before long, she would of course retire to a second and inferior position; but it was something to rest in with pleasure, that if it had been right and expedient, she would never have been displaced.
Sometimes mere possibilities—thoughts of what might have been—give very precious memories to cheerful tempers; while to those who are of a sad nature, they only enhance the gloominess of the present. Jane was not so cowardly as to let Francis see that she regretted anything for herself, and she proceeded to tell of her handsome salary, and how small her expenses had been, so that she was saving money; that Alice's salary would be equal at least to what she had at Mrs. Dunn's; and that the twenty-four pounds a year which he was allowed to give them was added to their savings; so that they were really making up a little hoard to begin business with Peggy when she left Scotland for Melbourne. She spoke of her money matters with frankness and confidence, and her cousin could not but see that she had now reasonable hope of prosperity.
They had had a very long conversation before Elsie came in. She had had a number of troublesome commissions to execute, and had been detained beyond expectation, but had acquitted herself to Mrs. Phillips's satisfaction, and now came in with a little glow of pleasure on her face to meet her cousin, to feel the warmth of his affectionate greeting, to have a little talk about books and poetry, to refresh her for her monotonous and uninteresting daily work. Nothing was said about the letter Francis had received, and Jane and he seemed desirous to banish it from their memory.
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