Chapter 160141430

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Chapter NumberXIX
Chapter Title
Chapter Urlhttp://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article160141430
Full Date1881-02-19
Page Number36
Corrections0
Word Count1800
IllustratedN
Last Corrected0000-00-00
Newspaper TitleAdelaide Observer (SA : 1843 - 1904)
Trove TitleEndymion
article text

CHAPTER XIX.

Disappointment and distress, it might be said despair, seemed fast settling again over the devoted roof of Hnrstley, after a three years' trnce of tranquillity. Even the crushing termi nation of her worldly hopes was forgotten for the moment by Mrs. Ferrers in her anguish at the prospect of separation from Endymion. Such a catastrophe she had never for a moment contemplated. True it was she had been de lighted with the scheme of hia entering the Foreign Office, bat that was on the assumption that she was to enter office herself, and that, what ever might be the scene of the daily labours of her darling child, her roof should be his home, and her indulgent care always at his command. But that Bhe was absolutely to part with Endymion, and that, at his tender age, he was to be launched. alone into the wide world, was an idea that she could not entertain, or even comprehend. Who was to clothe him, and feed him, and tend him, and save him from being run over, and guide and guard him in all the difficulties and dangers of this mundane existence ? It was madness, it was impossible. But Mr. Ferrars, though gentle, was firm. No doubt it was to be wished that the event could have been postponed for a year; but Its occurrence, an less all prospect of esta blishment in life were surrendered, was inevi table, and a slight delay would hardly render the conditions under which it happened less trying. Though Endymion was only sixteen, he Was tall and manly beyond his age, and during the latter years of his life his naturally sweet temper and genial disposition had been schooled in self-discipline and self-sacrifice. He was not to be wholly left to strangers; Mr. Ferrars had spoken to Rodney about receiving him, at least for the present, and steps would be taken that those who presided over his office would be influenced in his favonr. The appoint ment was certainly not equal to what had been originally anticipated; but still the depart ment, though not distinguished, was highly respectable, and there was no reason on earth, if the opportunity offered, that Endy mion should not be removed from his present post to one in the higher departments of the State. But if this opening were rejected, what was to be the future of their son P They could not afford to send him to the University, nor did Mr. Ferrars wish him to take refuge in the bosom of the Ohurch. As for the army, they bad now no interest to acquire commissions, and if they could succeed so far, they could not make him an allowance, which would permit him to maintain himBelf as became his rank. The Civil Service remained, in which his grand father had been eminent, and ,ia which his own parent, at aDy rate, though the victim of a revolution, had not disgraced himself. It seemed, under the circumstances, the natural avenue for their child. At least, he thought it ought to be"tried. He wished nothing to be settled without the full concurrence of Endy mion himself. The matter should be put fairly and clearly before him, "and for this purpose," concluded Mr. Ferrars, "I have just sent for him to my room;" and he retired.

The interview between the father and sou was long. When Endymion left the room his countenance was pale, but its expression was firm and determined. He went forth into the garden, and there he saw Myra. "How lorg you have been!" she said; " I have been watch ing for yon. What is settled P"

He took her arm, and in silence led her away into one of the glades. Then he said," I have settled to go, and I am resolved, so loDg as I live, that I will never cost dear papa another shilling. Things here are very bad, quite as bad bb you have sometimes fancied. But do not say anything to poor mamma about them."

Mr. Ferrars resolved that Endymion should go to London immediately, and the preparations for his departure were urgent. Myra did every thing. If she had been the head of a family she could not have been more thoughtful or apparently more experienced. If she had a doubt, she stepped over to Mrs. Penruddock and consulted her. As for Mrs. Ferrars, she had become very unwell, and nnable to attend to anything. Her occasional interference, fitful and feverish, and without adequate regard to circumstances, only embarrassed them. Bat, generally speaking, she kept to her own room, and was always weeping.

The last day came. No one pretended not to he serious and grave. Mrs. Ferrars did not appear, but saw Endymion alone. She did not speak, bnt locked him in her arms for many minutes, and then kissing him on the forehead, and, by a gentle motion, intimating that he should retire, she fell back on her sofa with closed eyes. He was alone for a short time with bis father after dinner. Mr. Ferrars said to him, "I have treated you in this matter as a man, and I have entire confidence in you. Tour business in life is to build up again a family

which was once honoured."

Myra was still copying inventories when he returned to the drawing-room. " These are for myself," she said, "so I shall always know what yon ont to have. Thongh yon go so early, I shall make your breakfast to-morrow," and, leaning back on the sofa, she took his hand. " Things are dark, and I fancy they will be darker; bnt brightness will come, somehow or other, to yon, darling, for you were born for brightness. You will find friends in life, and they will be women."

It was nearly three years since Endymion had travelled down to Hurstley by the same coach that was now carrying him to London. Though apparently so uneventful, the period had not been unimportant in the formation, doubtless yet partial, of his character. And all its influences

bad been benefioial to bim. Tbe erost of pride and selfishness with which large prosperity and illimitable indulgence had encased a kind, and far from presumptuous, disposition had been removed; the domestic sentiments in their sweetness and purity had been developed; he bad acquired some skill in scholarship and no inconsiderable fund of sound information; and the routine of religious thought had been super* seded in his instance by an amount of know ledge and feeling on matters theological un usual at his time of life. Though-apparently not gifted with any dangerous vivacity, or fatal facility of acquisition, his mind seemed clear and painstaking, and distinguished by common

sense. He was brave and accurate.

Mr. Rodney was in waiting for him at the inn. He seemed e most distinguished genrie man. A hackney coach carried them to Warwick street, where he was welcomed by Mrs. Rodney, who was exquisitely dressed. There was also her sister, a girl not older than Rndymion, the very image of Mrs. Rodney, except that she was a brunette—a brilliant brunette. This sister bore tbe romantic name of Imogene, for which she was indebted to her father performing tho part of the husband of the heroine in Matnrin's tragedy of the " Oastle of St. Aldobrand," and which, under the inspiration of Kean, had eet the town in a blaze about the time of her birth. Tea was awaiting him, and there was a mixture in their several manners of not ungraceful hos pitality and the remembrance of past depen dence, which was genuine and not uninteresting, though Rndymion was yet too inexperienced to

observe all this.

Mrs. Rodney talked very much of Rndymion's mother; her wondrous beauty, her more won drous dresses; the splendour of her fetes and equipages. As she dilated on the past, she seemed -to share its hutre and its triumphs. " The first of the land were always in attendance on her," and for Mrs. Rodney's part, she never saw a real horsewoman since her dear lady. Her sister did not speak, bot listened with rapt attention to the gorgeons details, occasionally stealing a glance at Rndymion—a glance of deep interest, of admiration mingled as it were both with reverence and pity.

Mr. Rodney took up the conversation if his wife paused. He spoke of all the leading states men who had been tbe habitual companions of Mr. Ferrars, and threw out several anecdotes respecting them from personal experience. " X knew them all," continued Mr. Rodney, "I might say intimately;" and then he told his great anecdote, how he had been so fortunate as perhaps even to save tbe Duke's life during the Reform Bill riots. "His Grace has never for gotten it, and only the day before yesterday X met him in St. James-street walking with Mr. Arbuthnot, and he touched his hat to me."

All this gossip and good nature, and the kind and lively scene, saved Rndymion from the inevitable pang, or at ieBst greatly softened it, which accompanies our first separation from home* In due season, Mrs. Rodney observed that she doubted not Mr. Rndymion, for so they ever called him, must be wearied with his journey, and would like to retire to his room; and her husband, immediately lighting a candle, prepared to introduce their new lodger to his quarters.

It was a tall house, which had reoently been renovated, with a story added to it, and on this story was Endymion's chamber; not absolutely a garret, but a modern substitute for that sort of apartment. "It is rather high," said Mr. Rodney, half apologising for the asoent, " but Mr. Ferrars himself chose the room. We took the liberty of lighting a fire to-night."

And the cheerful blaze was welcome. It lit up a room clean and not uncomfortable. Femi nine solicitude had fashioned a toilette-table for him, and there wsb a bunch of geraniums in a blue vase on its sparkling dimity garniture. " I suppose you have in your bag all that yon want at present?" said Mr. Rodney. "To morrow we will unpack your trunks and arrange yonr things in the drawers; and after breakfast, if you please, I will ehow your way to Somerset

House."

Somerset House! thought Rndymion, as he stood before the fire alone. Is it so near as that ? To-morrow, and I am to be at Somerset House! And then be thought of what they were doing atHnrstley— of that terrible parting with his mother, which made him choke—and of his father's last words. And then he thought of Myra, and the tears stole down his cheiek. And then he knelt down by his bedside and prayed.