THE NOVELIST. A VEXED INHERITANCE.

Otago Witness, Issue 1977, 14 January 1892, Page 37

THE NOVELIST. A VEXED INHERITANCE.

By ANNIE S. SWAN.

Author of "Twico Tried," "Across Her Path,

" Aldersyde," "The Gates of Eden," &c.

Chapter X.

Storms. ■HERE are you going this ' morning, Cliffoid?" I "To Alder.'ey, mother. 1 Won't you come ? If. you ; will I shall get out the dogcart and drive you over. It is a lovely morn-

ing." " No, thank you."

Nothing could be more coldly uttered than these three brief words which fell from Lady Eleanor's lip?. Her handsome face was darkly clouded, her lips compressed in bitterest displeasure. " I need not aEk when you will be home. I suppose we shall see you in time for dinner., It is a pity, I think, that you should trouble to return even for that, No doubt those who give you your other meals would be happy tD allow you to dine with them too."

Clifford bit his lip. He could not deny that there was some groutid for his mother's remark. 0 , for during the past week he had done little more than sleep at West Court. In the first happy days of his accepted love he had forgotten, perhaps, something of his duty to others. But, once convie'ed of an error, there could be none readier than Clifford Westray to acknowledge himself in the wrong, so he made answer promptly : " I beg your pardon, mother. I have been very careles?. Will you forgive me 1 " Lady Westray did not speak. She was standing by the flower stand in the breakfast room window, her unfathomable eyes fixed steadfastly on the brown and yellow tree tops waving in the pleasant September wind.

" There is nothing to be forgiven," she said slowly at length. "Itis I who ought to ask pardon. I have no right to question the comings or goings of the master of West Court."

This little shaft went home. She had touched Clifford's generous heart in the tenderest part, "That isn't fair, mother," he said quickly. "It is as fair as your treatment of me, Clifford," was the calmly uttered reply. " Would it please you were I to discontinue my visits to Alderley altogether ? " he asked, a trifle hotly.

" I decline to say."

Clifford was silent a moment. This was scarcely a propitious moment to plead his cause with bis mother, but neglected duty raproached him and whispered that she had a right to be told that he had wooed and won his wife.

•'Do you know what takes me to Alderley, mother"? "

11 1 am not blind. lam awsreit has many attractions for you," she answered quietly, but the displeased expression did not relax on her face.

Clifford looked at her with something of deep yearning in his earnest eyes, but if she was conscious of it she made no Bign.

" I have something to tell you, mother," he said bravely. " I admit that I ought to have told you at once. I have asked Florence Courtney to be my wife, and she has accepted." " The latter part of your speech is all quite unnecessary, Clifford," was his mother's sole comment, delivered with icy coldness. " Have you nothing to say, mother ? Her answer has made me very happy. Have you not a word of congratulation for me 1 " " No. I have nothing to say." " Then I may infer that you do not approve of my choice 1 " " Since you ask the question directly, I do not."

" What have you against her ? I am sure there is no sweeter, purer, more lovable woman in England than Florence Courtney." " That is your opinion, in which you cannot compel others to coincide." The proud, calmly-measured words, the icy coldness of his mother's look and tone, were almost more than impulsive Clifford Westray could bear. " Say what you mean, mother. Tell me frankly what are your objections to Florence Courtney ? What have you against her ? " "What have I against her?" she asked slowly ; then turned her head and looked him straight in the face with wrathful eyes. " I have everything against her. Even if she were not a pert, forward, presuming thing, with no regard for the proprieties of life, she is Adelaide Westray's sister. That in itself would be sufficient to make me refuse to countenance her, to make your foolish passion for her the bitterest disappointment of mv life."

"" What has Aunt Adelaide done to you to make you feel so bitterly against her ? " Clifford asked.

" She has been a constant thorn in the flesh to me ever since I came to West Court," exclaimed Eleanor Westray passionately. " Her whiniDg, wheedling ways have weaned the allegiance of the people away from me— from us, who are owners of West Court. Have.l ever been mistress here, Clifford 1 No ! Whila I have held the outward reins of government she has reigned supreme in the hearts of the people. They hate me, and they would lay down their iives for her at any moment. They regard her as a heroine and a martyr, and us as unjust usurpers. lam not a woman who can think lightly of, nor easily forgive, such injuries as these. If you marry Florence Courtney you do so without my approval or consent, and I shall never darken the door of West Court while I live."

Clifford Westray looked inexpressibly shocked. For a moment the blow to his own hopea was lost sight of in his astonishment at the depth of passionate anger exhibited by his mother against his aunt. The bitter animosity &ho had long cherished against that unconscious, inoffensive woman had found vent at last. " I think you are mistaken," he ventured

to say. "I am sure Aunt Adelaide would not "

" Don't speak of your Aunt Adelaide to me, boy," she interrupted hotly. " I know you worship the very ground she treads upon. There were some who gave me credit for helping to make away with the child. She has had her revenge, for the has stolen my son's heart from me. Adelaide Westray and her kindred have made me of no account to him. You may tell them bo, and cay Eleanor Westray wishes them joy of their revenge." Her passion was terrible to see. Her figure was drawn to its full height, her dark eyes flashed, her haughty face was flushed, her white bands had unconsciously clenched. She looked magnificent in he wrath. " Mother, mother, hush I "

Clifford's voice faltered. It was no ordinary grief to him, to have revealed to him the hardest side of his mother's nature.

"I am sure you wrong them," he said after a brief constrained silence, during which his mother had once more turned away from him. " How have they stolen your son's hearb ? Do I not love you as I have ever done 1 Although another love has come to me, it will not kill or destroy tho old ; nay, it but serves to make it stronger in every way." Clifford looked his noblest at that moment, pleading his own cause. His fine face was softened into eager entreaty, his whole appearance winning in the extreme.

"If it be as you say ib exhibits extraordinary signs, which to the untutored might readily be taken for the attributes of natural decay," his mother answered slowly. "I regret that I should have displayed such weakness before you, Clifford. It would have been more dignified in your mother to have borne her humiliation and made no sign." "What humiliation, mother? There has been none offered or intended," said Clifford eagerly. "I am sincerely sorry if I have seemed to lack in courtesy and deference to you. Will you forgive me ? " 11 As I said before, there is nothing to forgive. You are absolutely your own master." "I do not wish to be. It hurts me that you should even seem to throw me on my own responsibilities so entirely. I would seek your advice, your sympathy, your help, in everything." "In the face of what you have told me this morning, your assumptions of deference to my opinion are not only absurd, but offensive, Clifford. You knew right wel that I should not approve your entanglement with Florence Courtney." " Then am I to understand that your decision is final— that you will notcountenanc9 and receive her as my future wife 1 " " I have made no decision other than has always been in my mind. I lay down no law, nor ask you to con&ider me in any way As Sir Clifford Westray of West Court you are not bound to consult any concerning your future wife. Only you know what to expect from me, Clifford. I am no hypocrite. I will not lower myself in my own eyes by assuming a cordiality and a friend ship Ido not feel. Your Aunt Adelaide wijl tell you that, if you like to ask her; and I daresay Florenco knows I do not regard her with any favour." So sayiDg, Lady Westray swept from the room, leaving Clifford standing perplexed and troubled, his happiness suddenly overshadowed by a dark and impenetrable cloud. Denied all sympathy at home, what more natural than he should seek it where it had never failed him yet ? Florence was out of doors when he reached Alderley, and lie was fortunate in finding bis Aunt Adelaide alone in tho library, wbero she was looking over some proofs for Anna. "Good morning, Clifford. Florence has gone out for her walk, so I need hardly aek you to sit down beside me. Is not the air cold this morning ? I was out on the terrace for a little and was glad to come in ; it felt so wintry." " I don't know, Aunt Adelaide. I never thought of anything but one subject as I rode over ; it was more than sufficient, I can tell you." " What ? You look quite depressed, now that I see you better. What has ruffled you to-day 1 " " I told my mother this morniDg about Florence, Aunt Adelaide." Adelaide Westray winced slightly and laid down her pen. What she had feared and anticipated had como then, and there was to be a storm. "Well, Clifford? 1 ' "She was awfully angry, Aunt Adelaide, though I can't, for the life of me, understand wbyshe doesn't like Florence. She says she will never give our engagement her countenance or sanction."

11 That is bad, Clifford, but I am not surprised." " Then what am I to do 1 " Adelaide Westray shook her hea,d. " I dare not advise. You must see what Florence says, ia the first instance." " Do you mean me to tell her 2 "

"Most certainly." "That will be a bard task, Aunt Adelaide."

"It will; but Florence will take it better from you than from any one." Clifford, with his bands in his pocket 3 and his eyes down-bent, took two three turns across the floor.

"Aunt Adelaide, do you think that it would be a right or a just thing for two people to spoil their life's happiness for the wrong prejudices of one ? " " When that one happens to be your mother, Clifford, the case a3sumes a different aspect. It might be your duty to wait till these prejudices were overcome ; to try and win her by love." Clifford made no reply. Even to his loved aunt be could not Bay that to him that geemed a forlorn hope.

" Do you say ihen that I must give up Florence till then ? "

•' I only said that might be your duty," said Adelaide Westray with a sigh. "My boy, it is impossible for anyone, least of all for me, to advise you how to act in this matter."

"To give up Florence — never to see her, until some far-off time when my mother might relent," said Clifford gloomily. " I fear thai would be for me an impossible task. Then there is Florence— God bless her ! I believe she cares for me a little. Have I any right.

having won her, to throw her off for this 1 Has my mother any right to ask me to do such a thing? Which would be the greater wrong ? " At that moment the trilling of a young fresh voice in a gay snatch of Bong broke upon their cars, and presently Florence's bright face was pressed against the window pane. "Adelaide, do come out. It is lovely now that the sun has come out. It will do you no end of good." " Go to her, Clifford," said Adelaide hastily, for Clifford has withdrawn into a shadowed corner where Florence could not see him. •' Tell her frankly what has happened and leave it with her. I sould trust Florence to make a wise and honest decision, and she will not waste much time over it." Clifford took her advice, and as Adelaide Westray watched the pair stroll away together her heart was heavy for them, and there \sas an earnest prayer on her lips that this barrier to their joy might bo removed. She had been so happy and proud of them ; she had lived her own youth in their sweet wooing, and the bright future had promised to atone for the bitter past. Surely it could not be all at an end, even when it has scarcely begun. She dared not trust herself to think of Eleanor Westray, lest she should forget that charity t which " suffereth long and is kind."

" What is the matter with you to day, Clifford 7 " Florence asked, when they had traversed the breadrb of the park in unusual silence. " Are you meditating on your slender chances of success at the election 7 Is it true what Tom told us last night — that you are to contest the county against Lord Marsden ? "

" Quite true, Florence." " How mad they will be atMarsden Towers. Lady Edith will not talk to you any more, I am afraid."

" Perhaps not." " I don't believe you are even listening to what I am saying, Clifford Westray," said Florence severely. " How is Ella to-day 7 I met her in Westborough yesterday. She did not eeem well."

"She haa not bcea very stroDg lately. There is some talk of sending her to winter abroad. Was my mother with Ella yesterday when you met ber ? "

" Did she speak to you, Florence ? " " After a fashion, yes. She said, ' How do you do 7 ' and ' Good-bye.' I had just begun to talk to Ella about that little spaniel she has taken a fancy for, when Lady Westray gave Bennett the order to drive on. She said it was too cold to stand." Clifford coloured and bit his lip.

" Were you not angry, Florence 1 " " No, only amuee3. Your mother dislikes me very much, Clifford. She cannot even take the trouble to be civil to me," said Florence calmly. "I told her of our engagement this morniDg. 1 ' " Did you 7 I thought you had done it yesterday, she looked bo at me. But there is no engagement. You need not have called if by bo formal a name. What did she say 7 " " She was much displeased." Clifford's answers were curt and brief, because he felt so keenly on the subject.

" I expected that. Please to tell me what she said, Cliford," Florence asked quite quietly, picking the berries one by one from a cluster of mountain ash she held in her hand.

11 She said she would not countenance it, and that if I married you it would be without her consent."

Florence winced very slightly, and unconsciously crushed the berries in her hand until the red dyed her gloves. " She ia very kind. What did you say to that, Clifford ? " "I said what I say now — that I shall never give you up," said Clifford passionately, catching her hand in his. " How can you be so quiet and calm, Florence ? Do you care so little about it aEter all ? "

Florence uplifted her big eyes to hi 3 face for a moment, with that wistful, pathetic bok which sometimes gave to her such an innocent, childish, irresistible look. Her heart was hungrj and sore at that moment, though she made no other eiga than by that mate, uplifted glance. During the past days lore, being slowly revealed, had become a strangely precious thing to the heart of the wayward girl. But so is it with very many things on earth. We only know their dear value when they are about to be taken from us.

•' What do you Bay, Florence 1 You will not give me up for this 7 I have a right to choose my own wife, and my mother's prejudice is unjust and unkind. Will you not go with me through whatever betides 1 If I have you, I care for nought else." " You "must not say that ; I have not been accustomed to see you oo wholly selfish, Clifford," said Florence with an exquisite, quiet earnestness which sat beautifully upon her. " You know as wsll as I that without tho approval of yourkindred I can be nothing to you. You may be very sure that I shall never go unwelcomed to any new home." "Then you care nothing for me after all ? "' said Clifford with fierce reproach ia his passionato voice. " If you are pleased to think so, you may," was Florence's calm reply. But suddenly she stood still by the little gate where they had plighted their troth only one short week ago, the ash berries fell from her hands, and she laid them with a tender, clinging touch in his. Florence had something to say now, and she would say it with all the dear earnestness of her earnest heart. " I do not pretend, Clifford, that it will not vex me to have you go away now," she said with shy emphasis on the last word. "I do not know whether I should ever have been your wire," she said, finding it difficult to speak in so matter-of-fact a fashion of what an hour ago had only seemed a very far-off and vague possibility, " but Ido know that until your mother freely gives her consent, until she says to me of her own accord that she repents of her treatment of me in the past, I shall never be anything more to you." "And what of my happiness? Is that nothing, Florence 1" " You will have the consolation of knowing that I am as miserable as you," said Florence, a little comical smile doing battle with some rebellious tears which fell in spite of herself. "Perhaps I am wrong; but if the day ever comes when I am convinced of

it, I'll tell you so, Clifford, though it Bhould humiliate me to the very dust." And Florence kept her word.