Volume Iii Part 19 (1/2)
”_Tant mieux_, dear aunt!” replied Lady Stephenson. ”But invited or not, you have visiters coming now: I hear them on the stairs.”
Lady Stephenson was right; the old butler opened the drawing-room door almost as she spoke, and announced ”Mr. Stephenson!”
”Frederick!” exclaimed his fair sister-in-law, looking as if she meant to receive him very kindly.
”Young Stephenson!” said Lady Elizabeth, ”I did not know that he was coming to Clifton.”
”Sir Edward's brother, I suppose?...” said Miss Compton, ... but Agnes said nothing, though had any one laid a hand upon her heart, they would have discovered that his arrival was not a matter of indifference. To receive him with the appearance of it was, however, absolutely necessary, and she very resolutely a.s.sumed an aspect of tranquillity; it was not necessary that she should look towards the door to greet him as he entered, and therefore she did not do it; but, notwithstanding the attention she devoted to the pattern of the hearth-rug, she became aware, within a moment after this electrifying name had been announced, that not one only but three people were in the room, and that one of them was a lady.
Agnes then looked up, and the first figure which distinctly met her eye was not that of Frederick Stephenson, but of a gentleman bearing the stamp of some forty years, perhaps, upon his handsome but delicate features. He was not tall, but slightly and elegantly formed, which was perceptible, though wrapped in a travelling frock trimmed with fur, and his whole appearance was decidedly that of a gentleman.
But who these might be who were with him, or how they were received by Lady Elizabeth, the eye of Agnes had no power to inquire, for it was fascinated, as it were, by the earnest gaze of this stranger, who, having already stepped forward a pace or two nearer to her than the rest, stood looking at her with very evident emotion.
The first words she heard spoken were in the voice of young Stephenson, which she immediately recognised, though the purport of them was unintelligible.
”Yes, my dear sir, ... you are quite right,” he said; ”that is our Agnes.”
But though these words were somewhat startling, they drew her attention less than the expression of the large blue eyes that were fixed upon her; there was admiration, tenderness, and a strange sort of embarra.s.sment, all legibly mingled in that earnest look ... but why was it fixed on her?
What effect this mute scene produced on the other persons present, Agnes could not know, for she did not withdraw her eyes from those of the mysterious stranger, till at length he turned from her, and stepping back, took the hand of a very young, but very beautiful girl, whom he led towards the sofa she occupied, and placing her on it, said,
”Agnes Willoughby!... receive your sister ... and let her plead for her father and yours.... You have been long, long neglected, my poor child, but there has been some excuse for it.... Can you forgive me, Agnes?”
”Good G.o.d!... My father!” she exclaimed, starting up, and stretching out her hands towards him. ”Is it possible, sir, that you are indeed my father?”
”You speak as if you wished it were so, Agnes,” he replied, taking her in his arms, and impressing a kiss upon her forehead, ”and I will echo your words.... Is it possible?”
”Possible!... O! yes, sir, it is possible.... I have so longed to know that I had a father!... And is this sweet creature my sister?” she continued, turning her tearful eyes upon the beautiful girl, who upon this appeal sprang forward, and enclosing both her father and Agnes in her arms, replied to it by saying,
”Yes, dearest Agnes, I am your sister, indeed I am, and I know you very well, and all about you, though you know so little about me ... but you will not refuse to own me, will you?”
For all reply Agnes bent forward and kissed her fondly.
Miss Compton who, as may be supposed, had watched this discovery scene with no little interest, now stepped towards them, while young Stephenson was engaged in explaining it to Lady Elizabeth and his sister-in-law; and looking from one sister to the other, and from them both to their father, she said--”You will, perhaps, hardly remember that we ever met, Mr. Willoughby ... but my name is Compton, and I recal your features perfectly. You once pa.s.sed an hour at my brother's house when I was there ... and that these girls are sisters, no one that sees them together will be likely to deny.... G.o.d bless them both, pretty creatures!... I hope they will each be a blessing to the other.... But, to be sure, it seems to be a most romantic story ... and wonderfully like those I used to read in my bower, Agnes.”
”There is a good deal that is very sad in my part of it, Miss Compton,”
replied Mr. Willoughby, ”but at this moment I can hardly regret it, as herein I hope to show some excuse for my long negligence respecting my poor girl. Take this on trust, my good lady, will you?” he added, holding out his hand to her, ”that no displeasure towards me may destroy the happiness of this meeting.”
Miss Compton gave him her hand very frankly, saying,
”I have no right to be very severe upon you, Mr. Willoughby, for, without any misfortunes at all to plead as an excuse for it, our dear Agnes might tell you some naughty stories about me.... But she does not look as if she were much inclined to complain of anybody.... What a pair of happy, lovely looking creatures!... And how very strong the likeness to each other, and of both to you!”
Willoughby retired a step or two, and leaning against the chimney-piece, seemed disposed to enjoy the contemplation of the picture she pointed out, in silence. Lady Elizabeth claimed the attention of Miss Compton, that she might express her interest, satisfaction, surprise, and so forth. Lady Stephenson slipped out of the room to communicate the news to her husband and brother, and prepare them for the company they had to receive ... and then Frederick Stephenson approached the sisters, and drawing a chair towards them, very freely took a hand of each.
That of Agnes trembled. She felt that the happiness of her life would be for ever destroyed, if this young man was come back in consequence of Colonel Hubert's letter, with the persuasion that it was her purpose to accept him; and favourable as was the moment for a sort of universal philanthropy and unrestrained _epanchement de coeur_, she could not resist the impulse which led her to withdraw her hand, and return his affectionate smile with a look of coldness and reserve.
Perfectly undaunted, however, the gay Frederick continued to look at her with an air of the most happy confidence; but suddenly, as it seemed, recollecting that it was possible, though they had all of them been at least ten minutes in the room together, no explanation might have yet reached her, he said, in a manner to show that he was too happy to be very grave, though quite sufficiently in earnest to deserve belief--”If you accept my Nora for a sister, Agnes, you must accept me for a brother too. She knows that till I saw her I thought you the most charming person in the world; and as she forgives me for this, I hope you will show as much resemblance to her in mind as in person, and forgive me for thinking, when I did see her, that she was still more charming than you?”
And then it was that Agnes for the first time in her life felt wholly, perfectly, and altogether happy. She saw in an instant, with the rapid glance of love, that all the misty cloud that had hung between her and Hubert was withdrawn for ever ... and then she felt how very delightful it was to have a father, and such an elegant, interesting-looking father ... and then she became fully aware what a blessing it was to have a sister, and that sister so beautiful, and so capable of inspiring love in every heart ... save one, guarded as Hubert's was guarded. Her joy, her new-born gladness of spirit, danced in her eyes, as she now freely returned the young man's laughing glance, and restoring to him the hand she had withdrawn, she exclaimed, ”Oh! Frederick ... why did you not answer Hubert's letter, and tell him this?”