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Page 52
"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child!"
After the wedding, there were some weeks of that peaceful monotony which
is the happiest vehicle for daily life,--weeks so uniform that Charlotte
remembered their events as little as she did their particular weather.
The only circumstance that cast any shadow over them related to Harry.
His behavior had been somewhat remarkable, and the hope that time would
explain it had not been realized at the end of August.
About three weeks before Sophia's marriage, Harry suddenly wrote to say
that he had obtained a three months' furlough, in order to go to Italy
with a sick friend. This letter, so utterly unexpected, caused some
heart-burning and disappointment. Sophia had calculated upon Harry's
fine appearance and splendid uniform as a distinct addition to her
wedding spectacle. She also felt that the whole neighborhood would be
speculating upon the cause of his absence, and very likely infer from it
that he disapproved of Julius; and the bare suspicion of such a slight
made her indignant.
Julius considered this to be the true state of the case, though he
promised himself "to find out all about Mr. Harry's affairs" as soon as
he had the leisure and opportunity.
"The idea of Harry going as sick-nurse with any friend or comrade is
absurd, Sophia. However, we can easily take Florence into our
wedding-trip, only we must not let Charlotte know of our intention.
Charlotte is against us, Sophia; and you may depend upon it, Harry meant
to insult us by his absence."
Insult or not to the bride and bridegroom, it was a great disappointment
to Mrs. Sandal. To see, to speak to Harry was always a sure delight to
her. The squire loved and yet feared his visits. Harry always needed
money; and lately his father had begun to understand, and for the first
time in his life, what a many-sided need it was. To go to his
secretary, and to find no gold pieces in its cash-drawer; and to his
bank-book, and find no surplus credit there, gave the squire a feeling
of blank amazement and heart-sick perplexity. He felt that such a change
as that might prefigure other changes still more painful and frightsome.
Charlotte inclined to the same opinion as Julius, regarding her
brother's sudden flight to Florence. She concluded that he had felt it
impossible to congratulate his sister, or to simulate any fraternal
regard for Julius; and her knowledge of facts made her read for "sick
friend" "fair friend." It was, indeed, very likely that the beautiful
girl, whose likeness Harry carried so near his heart, had gone to
Florence; and that he had moved heaven and earth to follow her there.
And when his own love-affairs were pressing and important, how was it
likely that he could care for those of Julius and Sophia?
So, at intervals, they wondered a little about Harry's peculiar
movement, and tried hard to find something definite below the surface
words of his short letters. Otherwise, a great peace had settled over
Seat-Sandal. Its hall-doors stood open all day long, and the August
sunshine and the garden scents drifted in with the lights and shadows.
Life had settled down into such simple ways, that it seemed to be always
at rest. The hours went and came, and brought with them their little
measure of duty and pleasure, both so usual and easy, that they took
nothing from the feelings or the strength, and gave an infinite sense of
peace and contentment.
One August evening they were in the garden; there had been several hot,
clear days, and the harvesters were making the most of every hour. The
squire had been in the field until near sunset, and now he was watching
anxiously for the last wain. "We have the earliest shearing in
Sandal-Side," he said. "The sickle has not been in the upper meadows
yet, and if they finish to-night it will be a good thing. It's a fine
moon for work. _A fine moon, God bless her!_ Hark! There is the song I
have been waiting for, and all's well, Charlotte." And they stood still
to listen to the rumble of the wagon, and the rude, hearty chant that at
intervals accompanied it:--
"Blest be the day that Christ was born!
The last sheaf of Sandal corn
Is well bound, and better shorn.
Hip, hip, hurrah!"
"Good-evening, squire." The speaker had come quickly around one of the
garden hedges, and his voice seemed to fall out of mid-air. Charlotte
turned, with eyes full of light, and a flush of color that made her
exceedingly handsome.
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