The Marriage of Elinor. Oliphant Margaret

Sharp had also taken great pains to point out that there were only three brothers – one an invalid and the other two soldiers – between Mr. Phil and the title, and that even to be the Honourable Mrs. Compton was something for a young lady, who was, if he might venture to say so, nobody – not to say a word against her charms. Lord St. Serf was hourly getting an old man, and the chances that his client might step over a hecatomb of dead relations to the height of fortune was a thing quite worth taking into account. It was a much better argument, however, to return to the analogy of other poor young people, where the bride's little fortune would be put into the husband's business, and thus their joint advantage considered. Mr. Sharp, at the same time, did not hesitate to express politely his opinion that to call him down to the country for a discussion which could have been carried on much better in one or other of their respective offices was a most uncalled for proceeding, especially as even now the other side was wavering, and would not consent to conclude matters, and make the signatures that were necessary at once. Mr. Lynch, it must be allowed, was of the same opinion too.

      "Your country is a little bleak at night," said Mr. Sharp, partially mollified by a good dinner, but beginning to remember unpleasantly the cold drive in a rattletrap of a little rustic pony carriage over the hills and hollows. "Do you really remain here all the year? How wonderful! Not even a glimpse of the world in summer, or a little escape from the chills in winter? How brave of you! What patience and powers of endurance must be cultivated in that way!"

      "One would think Windyhill was Siberia at least," said Mrs. Dennistoun, laughing; "we do not give ourselves credit for all these fine qualities."

      "Some people are heroes – or heroines – without knowing it," said Mr. Sharp, with a bow.

      "And yet," said the mother, with a little indignation, "there was some talk of Mr. Compton doing me the honour to share my hermitage for a part of the year."

      "Mr. Compton! my dear lady! Mr. Compton would die of it in a week," said Mr. Sharp.

      "I am quite well aware of it," said Mrs. Dennistoun; and she added, after a pause, "so should I."

      "What a change it will be for your daughter," said Mr. Sharp. "She will see everything that is worth seeing. More in a month than she would see here in a dozen years. Trust Mr. Compton for knowing all that's worth going after. They have all an instinct for life that is quite remarkable. There's Lady Mariamne, who has society at her feet, and the old lord is a most remarkable old gentleman. Your daughter, Mrs. Dennistoun, is a very fortunate young lady. She has my best congratulations, I am sure."

      "Sharp," said Mr. Lynch from the background, "you had better be thinking of starting, if you want to catch that train."

      "I'll see if the pony is there," said John.

      Mr. Sharp put down his teacup with precipitation. "Is it as late as that?" he cried.

      "It is the last train," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with great satisfaction. "And I am afraid, if you missed it, as the house is full, there would be nothing but a bed at the public-house to offer – "

      "Oh, not another word," the lawyer said: and fortunately he never knew how near that rising young man at the bar, John Tatham, who had every object in conciliating a solicitor, was to a charge of manslaughter, if killing an attorney can thus be called. But the feelings of the party were expressed only in actions of the greatest kindness. They helped him on with his coat, and covered him with rugs as he got in, shivering, to the little pony carriage. It was a beautiful night, but the wind is always a thing to be considered on Windyhill.

      "Well, that's a good thing over," said Mr. Lynch, going to the fire as he came in from the night air at the door and rubbing his hands.

      "It would have been a relief to one's feeling to have kicked that fellow all the way down and up the other side of the combe, and kept him warm," said John, with a laugh of wrath.

      "It is a pity a man should have so little taste," said Mrs. Dennistoun.

      Elinor still stood where she had been standing, with every feeling in her breast in commotion. She had not taken any part in the insidious kindnesses of speeding the parting guest; and now she remembered that he was her Phil's representative: whatever she might herself think of the man, how could she join in abuse of one who represented Phil?

      "He is no worse, I suppose, than others," she said. "He was bound to stand up for those in whose interest he was. Mr. Lynch would have made himself quite as disagreeable for me."

      "Not I," said the old gentleman; "for what is the good of standing up for you? You would throw me over on the first opportunity. You have taken all the force out of my sword-arm, my dear, as it is. How can I make myself disagreeable for those who won't stand up for themselves? I suppose you must have it your own way."

      "Yes, I suppose it will be the best," said Mrs. Dennistoun, in subdued tones.

      "It would come to about the same thing, however you settled it," said John.

      Elinor looked from one to another with eyes that began to glow. "You are a cheerful company," she said. "You speak as if you were arranging my funeral. On the whole I think I like Mr. Sharp best; for if he was contemptuous of me and my little bit of money, he was at all events cheerful about the future, and that is always something; whereas you all – "

      There was a little pause, no one responding. There was no pleasant jest, no bright augury for Elinor. The girl's heart rose against this gloom that surrounded her. "I think," she said, with an angry laugh, "that I had better run after Mr. Sharp and bring him back, for he had at least a little sympathy with me!"

      "Don't be too sure of that," said Mr. Lynch, "for if we think you are throwing yourself away, Elinor, so does he on his side. He thinks the Honourable Mr. Compton is going dreadfully cheap for five thousand pounds."

      "Elinor need not take any of us au pied de la lettre– of course we are all firm for our own side," said John.

      Elinor turned her head from one to another, growing pale and red by turns. There was a certain surprise in her look, as she found herself thus at bay. The triumph of having got the better of their opposition was lost in the sense of isolation with which the girl, so long the first object of everybody about her, felt herself thus placed alone. And the tears were very ready to start, but were kept back by jealous pride which rose to her help. Well! if they put her outside the circle she would remain so; if they talked to her as one no longer of them, but belonging to another life, so be it! Elinor determined that she would make no further appeal. She would not even show how much it hurt her. After that pale look round upon them all, she went into the corner of the room where the piano stood, and where there was little light. She was too proud to go out of the room, lest they should think she was going to cry. She went with a sudden, quick movement to the piano instead, where perhaps she might cry too, but where nobody should see. Poor Elinor! they had made her feel alone by their words, and she made herself more alone by this little instinctive withdrawal. She began to play softly one thing after another. She was not a great performer. Her little "tunes" were of the simplest – no better indeed than tunes, things that every musician despises: they made a little atmosphere round her, a voluntary hermitage which separated her as if she had been a hundred miles away.

      "I wish you could have stayed for the marriage," Mrs. Dennistoun said.

      "My dear lady, it would spoil my holiday – the middle of September. You'll have nobody except, of course, the people you have always. To tell the truth," John added. "I don't care tuppence for my holiday. I'd have come – like a shot: but I don't think I could stand it. She has always been such a pet of mine. I don't think I could bear it, to tell the truth."

      "I shall have to bear it, though she is more than a pet of mine," said Mrs. Dennistoun.

      "I know, I know! the relatives cannot be let off – especially the mother, who must put up with everything. I trust," said Mr. Lynch, with a sigh, "that it may all turn out a great deal better than we hope. Where are they going after the marriage?"

      "Some one has lent them a place – a very pretty place – on the Thames, where they can have boating and all that – Lord Sudbury, I think. And later they are going on a round of visits, to his father, Lord St. Serf, and to Lady Mariamne, and to his aunt, who is Countess of