MR. LANSDOWNE SUBMITS TO THE INEVITABLE.
In the meanwhile, a change had come upon John Lansdowne. Only a few
weeks ago, he was a careless youth, of keen and vigorous intellectual
powers, satiated with books and tired of college walls, with the boy
spirit in the ascendant within him. His eye was wide open and
observant, and his ringing laugh was so merry, that it brought an
involuntary smile upon any one who might chance to hear its rich
peals. His talk was rapid, gay, and brilliant, with but the slightest
dash of sentiment, and his manner frank and fearless.
But now his bearing had become quiet and dignified; his conversation
was more thoughtful and deep-flowing, less dashing and free; he spoke
in a lower key; his laugh was less loud but far sweeter and more
thrilling; his eyes had grown larger, darker, deeper, and sometimes
they were shadowed with a soft and tender mist, not wont to overspread
them before. The angel of Love had touched him, and opened a new and
living spring in his heart. Boiling and bubbling in its hidden recess,
an ethereal vapor mounted up and mantled those blazing orbs in a dim
and dreamy veil. A charmed wand had touched every sense, every power
of his being, and held him fast in a rapturous thrall, from which he
did not wish to be released. Under the spell of this enchantment, the
careless boy had passed into the reflective man.
Stories are told of knights errant, in the times of Merlin and the
good King Arthur, who, while ranging the world in quest of adventures,
were bewitched by lovely wood fairies or were lulled into delicious
slumber by some syren's song, or were shut up in pleasant durance in
enchanted castles. Accounts of similar character are found, even in
the pages of grave chroniclers of modern date, to say nothing of what
books of fiction tell, and what we observe with our own eyes, in the
actual world. The truth is, Love smites his victims, just when and
where he finds them. Mr. Lansdowne's case then, is not an
unprecedented one. The keen Damascus blade, used to pierce our hero
and bring him to the pitiful condition of the conquered, had been
placed in the hand of Adèle. Whether Love intended to employ that
young lady in healing the cruel wound she had made, remains to be
seen.
At the beginning of their acquaintance, they had found a common ground
of interest in the love of music.
They both sang well. Adèle played the piano and John discoursed on the
flute. From these employments, they passed to books. They rummaged Mr.
Dubois's library and read together, selected passages from favorite
authors. Occasionally, John gave her little episodes of his past life,
his childish, his school, and college days. In return, Adèle told him
of her term at Halifax in the convent; of the routine of life and
study there; of her friendships, and very privately, of the disgust
she took, while there, to what she called the superstitions, the
mummeries and idolatry of the Catholic church.
When Mr. Somers had acquired strength enough for exercise on
horseback, Mrs. Dubois, Adèle, and John were accustomed to accompany
him. Daily, about an hour after breakfast, the little party might have
been seen fitting off for a canter through the forest. In the evening,
the group was joined by Mr. Dubois and the missionary. The atmosphere
being exceedingly dry, both by day and night, they often sat and
talked by moonlight, on a balcony, built over the large, porch-like
entrance to the main door of the house.
Thus John and Adèle daily grew into a more familiar acquaintance.
During the absence of Mr. Dubois at Fredericton, Mr. Somers announced
to John that he felt himself strong enough to undertake the ride
through the wilderness, and proposed that, as soon as their host
returned, they should start on their journey home.
With increasing strength, Mr. Somers had become impatient to return to
the duties he had so summarily forsaken.
He wished to test, in active life, his power to maintain the new
principles he had espoused and to ascertain if the nobler and holier
hopes that now animated him, would give him peace, strength, and
buoyancy, amid the temptations and trials of the future.
John, for several days, had been living in a delicious reverie, and
was quite startled by the proposition. Though aware how anxiously his
parents were awaiting his return, and that there was no reasonable
excuse for farther delay, he inwardly repudiated the thought of
departure. He even indicated a wish to delay the journey beyond the
time Mr. Somers had designated. A piercing look of inquiry from that
gentleman recalled him to his senses, and after a moment of
hesitation, he assented to the arrangement. But the beautiful dream
was broken. He was thrown at once into a tumult of emotion. Unwilling
to expose his agitation to the observation of others, he went directly
to his room and locked himself in.
After sitting half an hour with his face buried in his hands, the
chaos of his soul formed itself into definite shape. His first clear
thought was this,--"Without Adèle, my life will be a blank. She is
absolutely necessary to my existence. I must win her". A very decided
conclusion certainly, for a young gentleman to reach, who when he
arrived at this house, but a few weeks before, seemed to be enjoying a
liberal share of hope and happiness. The question arose, Does she care
for me? Does she regard me with any special interest beyond the
kindness and courtesy she accords to all her father's guests? On this
point, he could not satisfy himself. He was torn by a conflict of
doubt, hope, and fear. He thought her not averse to him. She
conversed, sang, and rode with him as if it were agreeable to her.
Indeed she seemed to enjoy his society. But she was equally pleased to
converse and ride with Mr. Somers and good Mr. Norton. He was unable
to determine the sentiments she really cherished and remained tossed
to and fro in painful suspense and agitation.
A couple of hours passed and found him in the same state. Mr. Somers
came and tapped upon his door. Unwilling to awaken a suspicion of any
unusual discomposure, John opened it and let him in.
"Hope I don't intrude", said Mr. Somers, "but I want you to look at
the horse Mummychog has brought for me".
"Ah! yes", said John, and seizing his hat, he accompanied his friend
to the stables.
Their observations over, they returned to the house.
"You have had a fit of solitude, quite unusual, my boy", said Mr.
Somers, planting his hand on John's shoulder.
"Yes, quite. For a novelty, I have been collecting my thoughts". John
meant to speak in a gay, indifferent tone, and thought he had done so,
but this was a mistake.
Besides he had in fact a decidedly conscious look.
"If you have any momentous affair on hand, I advise you to wait, until
you reach _home_ before you decide upon it, my boy", said Mr. Somers,
with a light laugh, but a strong emphasis upon the word, home.
And he passed up-stairs, leaving John, standing bewildered in the
hall-door.
"Ah! Ned has discovered it all", said he to himself. But he was too
much occupied with other thoughts to be annoyed by it now.
Mr. Somers's last remark had turned the course of his meditations
somewhat. He began to question what opinion his parents might have in
regard to the sentiments he entertained towards Adèle, and the plan
he had formed of endeavoring to secure her love. He knew, they
considered him as yet hardly out of boyhood. He had indeed, until
within a few weeks, looked upon himself in that light.
Not yet freed from college halls,--would they not think him foolish
and precipitate? Would they approve his choice?
But these queries and others of like character he disposed of
summarily and decisively. He felt that, no matter how recently he had
passed the limits of boyhood and become a man, it was no boy's passion
that now swayed his whole being, it seemed to him that, should he make
the effort, he could not expel it from his soul. But he did not wish
to make the effort. Adèle was worthy the love of any man.
It had been his fortune to find a jewel, when he least expected it.
Why should he not avail himself of the golden opportunity and secure
the treasure? Would his parents approve his choice? Certainly, Adèle
was "beautiful as the Houries and wise as Zobeide". Considerations of
policy and expediency, which sometimes appear on the mental horizon of
older people, were quite unknown to our young hero.
So he returned to the only aspect of the case that gave him real
disquiet. He had fears respecting Adèle's sentiments towards himself,
and doubts of his ability to inspire in her a love equal to his own.
But he must be left for the present to adjust himself to his new
situation as best he can.