CHAPTER XVII.--PLOTTING AND COUNTER-PLOTTING.

The same post-bag in which Tom Hazlehurst dispatched his letter to his schoolfellow, conveyed also two other epistles written by inmates of the Grange. For the reader’s benefit we will take the same liberty with them, which we have already taken with the Etonian’s literary effusion. The first was from Kate Marsden to Miss Arabella Crofton, a lady some three or four years older than herself, who had been one of the teachers at the school at which Kate had been brought up, and was now governess in a German family. Miss Crofton was a woman of unusual mental ability, and having in a great degree moulded Kate’s character, was now her sole _confidante_ and mentor. It ran thus:--

“Dear Arabella,--Since I finally determined on following your advice, fate seems to have played my game for me, and I now consider it as secure as anything which has not actually come to pass can be. I told you, when I wrote to you at Baden-Baden, that _his_ friend, Mr. Coverdale, and my cousin Alice, were evidently becoming attached; you will therefore be the less surprised to hear that they were married yesterday; the matter came about thus:--Soon after I wrote to you, Mr. Crane, by my advice, offered; Alice of course refused him, but so equivocally (she is quite a child in such things) that the poor, dear, dull creature scarcely caught her meaning. I immediately took him in hand, and, availing myself of the situation, flattered his vanity to such a degree, that ere the evening finished he believed not only that Alice would accept him, but that I, Kate Marsden, was hopelessly in love with him. Accordingly, when he learned unmistakably next morning that Alice meant to refuse him, _my_ good taste stood out in very favourable contrast. In the meantime, Mr. Crane’s offer brought Mr. Coverdale to the point, and Alice gladly accepted him, in doing which she acted wisely, for he is a good, amiable, sterling man! and when the romance has worn off, and they have got over the bore of awakening from ‘Love’s young dream,’ I believe they will settle down into a very happy couple. My uncle at first refused his consent, for Coverdale has only five, instead of twenty thousands a-year; and Mr. Crane sulked in a corner; but that strange Mr. D’Almayne, about whom I told you before, and who possesses a degree of influence over Mr. Crane of which I by no means approve, went to him, and persuaded him not only to give up Alice good-humouredly, but actually to play a generous part, and talk my uncle over to give his consent to my cousin’s union with Mr. Coverdale. Thus, you see, as I began by saying, my game was played for me, and I had only to sit still and avail myself of the moves as the others made them.

“I am much puzzled by this Mr. D’Almayne. He is, unless I am much deceived, a complete adventurer, scheming for his own advantage (_I_ ought to be able to recognise such a character); but what his object can have been in this affair I cannot possibly conjecture. Pure philanthropy had nothing to do with it, of that I am certain. Again, how he contrived to influence Mr. Crane to behave so amiably I cannot conceive. Sometimes I fancy he has divined my intention of marrying the _millionaire_; but, if so, why should he aid me in my project?--for I know by his manner (although he is very cautious) that he admires me himself. Certain it is, that since the conversation I have alluded to, Mr. Crane has been at my feet, and is only waiting to offer till he imagines time enough shall have elapsed to prevent the transfer of his affections (?) from Alice to me appearing too ridiculous. However, the affair will unravel itself some day. And now that my plans are likely to be crowned with success, you will ask me how I feel on the subject. Determined as ever! that which I have begun I will carry through; but, Arabella, I am most miserable. For myself alone I should not care; to rescue my family from poverty, I should be happy to sacrifice my personal hopes and wishes; but to see Arthur suffer is indeed bitterness, and that he does suffer frightfully, I, who can read his every look and gesture, cannot for a moment doubt. Oh, that I had known the depth and reality of his affection sooner, or that the necessity were less cogent! Then he bears it with such manly endurance his manner to his family is exactly the same as usual; not one of them suspects that anything has occurred to pain him. Again, it is such an aggravation of my sorrow that he blames me so deeply! Sometimes, when I am talking to Mr. Crane, I catch his stern, penetrating glance fixed upon me with a calm earnestness of rebuke, which affects me more deeply than could the most vehement reproaches; and when I have acted my part for the day, and, in the solitude of my chamber, I recall all that has passed between us, and reflect that it is I who have brought this sorrow upon him--I who even now feel that I love him better than my own soul--I who would gladly have died for him, I sit, night by night, like a cold statue of despair, or lie sleepless, shedding such tears as I trust God’s mercy permits not to flow quite in vain! Yet it is my duty--you _know_, you cannot doubt for a moment, it is my duty--you could never have _dared_ to counsel such a sacrifice of the only thing which can make the burden of life endurable, a real, deep, true affection, if you had not felt certain it was my duty.

“You have set me a cruel task, Arabella, but I do not flinch from it; you shall find your pupil worthy the trouble you have bestowed upon her. I shall write again when anything conclusive is settled. If all goes well, I shall be in a position to fulfil my old promise, and offer you a home on your return to England. Would to God it were likely to be a happier, though a humbler one! But that is past now. Farewell.

“Yours, in many senses of the word,

“Kate Marsden.”

The third epistle was from Horace D’Almayne to a friend and ally in Paris. “We transcribe it _verbatim_:--

“Alphonse, mon cher,--I enclose you a draft for 3000 francs, wherewith I beg you to satisfy Carreau, the tailor, _et tous les autres brigands_, who render Paris an unsafe residence for me. You will naturally ask how I have obtained the money; not at the gaming-table, nor on the highway, like Claude Duval. Railroads and police have freed England from highwaymen. No; I have for the present filled my purse by studying the great game of life; in which, like all other games, you must either pillage, or be pillaged. You and I, men of wit and of action, naturally belong to the former class, and have meritoriously laboured to fulfil our destiny. Since I have been in England this time I have sedulously cultivated the _millionaire_ I introduced to you last season, whose pocket you so obligingly relieved of £500 at piquet. I made a bad bargain there in only claiming one-third of the spoil; I should have demanded half, for without my assistance you could have done nothing with him; but I understand them, these cautious islanders, some of their blood runs in my veins--my mother, as you know, having been an Englishwoman. However, the time spent on my _millionaire_ has turned out a more profitable investment than I at all calculated upon. He is a weak, vacillating character, one of those feeble-minded mortals who always require some intelligence stronger than their own to lean upon. This support he has found in your humble servant; and so convinced has he become of my diplomatic powers, that just at present he can do nothing without my approval and sanction. His great object in life is to marry, and it is to assist him in obtaining a wife that my counsel is required. When I first arrived here, I found he was dangling after a charming little country girl, the daughter of a landed proprietor in these parts. I soon discovered that the said proprietor, for mercenary reasons, desired the match; but with the young lady I could do nothing. I gave her the full benefit of my eyes, which, as you know, are not wont to look in vain; but it was no use--even ‘_les petites moustaches noires_,’ usually so irresistible, were thrown away upon her; nor had friend Crane’s £20,000 per annum (_mon Dieu, Alphonse, quelle somme merveilleuse!_) any more effect upon her. But I soon found a clue to her obduracy--the silly child was enamoured of her brother’s friend, a fox-hunting squire, a true specimen of young John Bull. I saw how the game would go, John Bull returned her affection; he is a real type of his class. Rich, obstinate, and impetuous, he was resolved to marry the pretty rustic; she was equally determined; her brother befriended him; the thing was to be, so I arranged my hand accordingly. There is in the family a _belle cousine_--such a splendid creature, _Alphonse!_ beautiful as an angel, the _contour_ of a Juno, the port of an empress. She has tact and talent; a soul of fire beneath an exterior of ice; she is poor and ambitious. I could not have hoped to find one better suited to my purpose. She shall marry Crane; his purse will be in her hands; he will become her slave; and, _Alphonse_, she shall be mine! Do you doubt my success, _mon ami?_ Bah! the game is as simple as child’s play. She is young, ardent; she will marry an old man to satisfy her ambition--she will despise him. Her heart will pine for an object on which to lavish its tenderness; I shall present myself, become her friend, her counsellor--and the result? Oh, you cannot doubt it. So I have pulled the strings, and my _marionnettes_ have danced, and are dancing. My _millionaire_ offered--the little rustic refused him. While he was smarting from this insult, I suggested to him that _la belle cousine_ pined for love of him; praised her wit and beauty; and advised him to revenge himself by transferring his attentions to her. The bait took; I worked out all the minor incidents admirably; the young fox-hunter has married the pretty rustic, and taken her out of my way yesterday. The lovely Kate, playing her own game, labours indefatigably for my interest also. My friend Crane is delighted, and shows his gratitude by _urging_ me to borrow money of him--(I have mortgaged my farm in Brittany to him for six times its value; when the three prior claims upon it are satisfied, and he brings forward his, this fact will surprise him, and teach him prudence for the future)--I avail myself of his liberality with caution, for I must not cut up my golden goose too quickly. But it is well to have more than one resource to rely upon; so if your rich young German countess should resolve on visiting England, send me timely notice. I feel that my star is in the ascendant. _Cher Alphonse_, wish your friend the success which should reward talent, in the use of which you have so well instructed your devoted,

“Horace.”