Lo! where the paling cheek, the unconscious sigh,
The slower footstep, and the heavier eye,
Betray the burthen of sweet thoughts and mute,
The slight tree bows beneath the golden fruit.
THE NEW TIMON.
It was a beautiful afternoon, in the first week of August, and the two
ladies set off as usual for their afternoon's drive, the little Louisa
seated between them. Mr. de Burgh had been on the steps to see the party
start, himself lifting the child with his usual tenderness into the
carriage--and wishing them a pleasant drive, he casually inquired in
what direction they meant to go.
"To Morland, I think," answered Mrs. de Burgh carelessly, as she
gathered up the reins, and arranged herself upon her seat.
"To Morland," he repeated.
"Yes! have you any objection?"
"Oh, none whatever!"
"Well, good bye!" and with a light touch of the whip, the pretty ponies
were put in motion.
Ere they had proceeded far through the park Mrs. de Burgh said,
laughing:
"I told him we were going to Morland, but that is not at all my
intention. You need not say anything about it, but I have made up my
mind to drive you to Montrevor. Really I ought to go and see old Uncle
Trevor after his illness; at any rate, I must speak to Eugene, and make
personal inquiries."
"But why tell Louis that you were going to Morland? Oh, Olivia! do not
drive there to-day," Mary exclaimed in some consternation.
"Why not," inquired Mrs. de Burgh, looking at her companion in surprise:
"you really do not mean to say that I ought to submit to the absurd
objection Louis expressed the other night upon the subject?"
Mary could not say with sincerity, that this--or even the unnecessary
deceit which her companion intended to put upon her husband--however
this might have offended her conscience, was the chief cause which now
rendered the proposed excursion so repugnant to her feelings; there was
another, of a nature she could not exactly explain; but which
nevertheless influenced them greatly on this occasion.
The fact was, upon poor Mary's heart by this time had been worked an
impression far from being of a light or imaginative nature.
The constant visits of the dark-eyed cousin of Mrs. de Burgh, had
conjured up feelings as far removed from the dream-like fancy of other
days, as is the shadow from the substance, and the very fact of the
existence of such feelings made her painfully susceptible to any
proceeding which might, in the slightest degree, even on the part of
others, make her appear desirous of courting the society of the object
who had awakened them--and of whose corresponding sentiments towards
herself, she had as yet no certain guarantee.
Mary could not but suspect that this excursion to Montrevor would be
only made by Mrs. de Burgh on her account, and that this might be made
to appear to Eugene Trevor by his cousin; therefore, when Mrs. de Burgh
only laughed at her evident disinclination, she, on the impulse of the
feelings with which the idea inspired her, begged that at any rate, if
her cousin were really bent upon the plan, that she would suffer her to
remain behind. Whereupon Mrs. de Burgh, somewhat coldly drawing in the
reins, begged Mary would do as she pleased; if she really had so great
an objection to going to Montrevor--perhaps she would not mind
returning, as she had a particular wish to go and inquire after her
uncle.
Mrs. de Burgh indeed offered to drive her back, but Mary said, she would
really like the walk, and accordingly was suffered silently to alight,
feeling perhaps a little inclined to doubt, whether she had not gone
rather too far in thus decidedly carrying out her own way, yet not
liking to give in after she had so strongly expressed her
disinclination.
Mrs. de Burgh wished her a pleasant walk, and little Louisa knelt upon
the seat and kissed her hand regretfully to her retreating cousin as
they went their several ways.
* * * * *
Mary walked slowly, and rather dejectedly back towards the house,
knowing that her cousin Louis, with whom she would fain have avoided the
necessity of giving the reason of her return, had been on the point of
setting off towards a distant part of the grounds when they had left
him.
Just as she arrived in sight of the mansion, the sound of a horse's feet
met her ear, the next moment a horseman riding up a different approach
to that by which she came, appeared in sight. It was Eugene Trevor. He
immediately perceived her, and dismounting threw his bridle to a servant
standing on the step, and hurried forward to meet her.
Mary was so totally unprepared for a _rencontre_, which circumstances
rendered at that moment peculiarly embarrassing to her feelings, that
she received Trevor with a coldness and constraint unusual to her
manner; and when he mentioned the fear he had entertained of finding
them out, she merely answered, that Olivia had gone for a drive, but
that Louis was in the grounds, and proposed walking on to find him.
Eugene did not object, so they proceeded in the requisite direction.
Then he told her that he had come to say good-bye. A friend of his had
engaged a moor in Scotland in partnership with himself, and that he was
therefore obliged to set off in a day or two, not much to his
gratification--for there were many things which made him regret to leave
the neighbourhood just then, and he should be away, he supposed, about a
month.
Mary was dismayed to feel how her heart sank low at this communication;
she, however, made an effort to rally her spirits; and the subject thus
started, she discussed the delights and merits of the grouse-shooting
and moorland country, with a careless interest which made her inwardly
wonder over her new-found powers of duplicity.
But they fell in with Mr. de Burgh sooner than she had expected, or
Eugene, perhaps, had hoped; for in spite of any change which he might
have discerned in his companion's manner, his lingering step and earnest
attention plainly demonstrated, that the charm he ever seemed to find in
her society was not decreased.
Mr. de Burgh was evidently surprised at Mary's re-appearance, but
supposing it was a whim of his wife's to put an end to the intended
drive, on account of Eugene Trevor's visit, and that she too had
returned to the house, he made no further remark upon the subject than
his first exclamation, "What come back already?"
On hearing of Eugene Trevor's intended excursion, he entered into
conversation with him on the subject. Then he called Eugene's attention
to those alterations he was superintending, into which the former
entered with all due interest and understanding; and his attention thus
engaged, it was not for some time that he was at liberty to turn to
Mary, who stood by in the meantime silent and abstracted.
He did not remain much longer; he was obliged to return home to meet a
friend, and therefore took leave of Mr. de Burgh and finally of Mary,
lingering a little as if he half hoped to have had a companion in his
walk back towards the house; but finding this was not to be the case,
he went off regretfully alone.
Mr. de Burgh asked Mary if she felt inclined to extend her walk to a
further part of the estate. She acceded cheerfully to the proposal, for
she fancied her cousin's eye had glanced somewhat anxiously upon her
countenance as they stood silently together after Eugene's departure.
And so they proceeded, making a lengthened circuit which did not bring
them back to the house till a later hour than they had supposed, and
Mrs. de Burgh had by that, time returned.
* * * * *
Mary went immediately to her cousin's dressing-room, anxious to do away
with any offended feeling her conduct might have excited. She found Mrs.
de Burgh quite amicably disposed. She began immediately to rally Mary on
the very clever manner in which she had managed her morning's
amusement; she had seen Eugene Trevor, who had told her of the
delightful walk they had taken together.
"The fact is," Mrs. de Burgh continued, "I did not go to Montrevor after
all. It was too far to go all alone--and returning I met Eugene, and we
had a long chat."
"He told you, I suppose," said Mary, "that he was going away."
"Yes, for a month--what shall we do without him in the meantime? By the
bye, I told him, Mary, of _your_ conduct this afternoon."
"My conduct?" asked Mary in alarm.
"Yes, your insurmountable objection to a drive to Montrevor."
"Oh, Olivia!" in a tone of reproach.
"Yes, I did, indeed; and do you know what he said to this?"
"No, indeed," Mary anxiously replied.
"He laughed quite scornfully and said: 'She shall go there some day,'
then spurred his horse and rode off at full speed. Ha! ha!
"'He laughs and he rides away.'
Nay, Mary do not look offended. He did not intend anything _very_
insulting I dare say. Go dear, and rest yourself after this long walk
Louis has dragged you, and which has made you look so pale."
And thus dismissed, Mary went to her room, but not to take up her usual
window-seat. There would be no interest in looking across the park that
night. No--nor for a great many nights to come.
Most of that next month passed without much outward change or
excitement. Mrs. de Burgh declared that the extreme dulness made Mary
look quite listless and ill.
On the first of September, however, there was a shooting party, and a
few other gaieties in the neighbourhood, the country houses beginning
again to fill.
Mary during this interval of time had received one piece of information,
which rejoiced her greatly, if it did not succeed in making her so
completely happy as she fancied it would have done a month or two
before.
Her brother Arthur wrote word, that he should be in England towards the
end of the autumn. He gave no very flourishing account of their property
and affairs. He spoke of the necessity for his entering into some
profession, and of his wish of following up the study of the law. But
all was written in as cheerful a strain as if his communication had been
of a contrary nature.
Who but the young can thus look cheerfully into the face of the grim
monster poverty, and say "be welcome," feeling now that talents which
had otherwise been weighed down beneath the deadening power of
affluence, may now be given eagle wings wherewith to mount above to
honour and renown? For as the German author writes:
"Riches often weigh more heavily on talents than poverty; but," he
beautifully continues, "Just Providence preserve the old man from want,
for hoary years have already bent him low, and he can no longer stand
upright with the youth, and bear the heavy burden on his head. The old
man needs rest on the earth, ever while he is upon it, for he can use
only the present, and a little bit of the future, and the past does not
reflect for him as in a glass the blooming present."
* * * * *
It was not till the middle of September that Eugene Trevor returned.
Mary saw him first again at an archery _fête_ given in the grounds of
Morland, the scene of their former meeting and acquaintance.
But that it would prove a day coloured by the same bright remembrances,
appeared at first unlikely.
For some time, Mary feared that the expectations of his being present at
all were doomed to disappointment, for he did not make his appearance
till very late; and Mary walked about with her cousin Louis (who on this
occasion proved a better _chaperon_ than on the former), trying to look
more cheerful than she really felt.
An hour before dinner, he was discerned among the gay throng, but as Mr.
de Burgh did not direct his course that way, he remained--as Mary was
too easily inclined to imagine, coldly aloof--either she thought
offended, or discouraged by the recollection of the coldness of manner
she had shown towards him on his parting visit, or--(why should she
imagine it otherwise?) the new pursuits and scenes of interests in which
he had been engaged, had effaced all traces of any slight impression she
might have made upon his mind or feelings.
No greeting passed between them until, on their way to the _déjeûner_,
Eugene passed her with another lady on his arm, and the one they then
exchanged was necessarily slight and hurried, signifying nothing.
His companion was young and beautiful, and Mary, with pardonable
curiosity, inquired who she was of the gentleman who escorted her.
She was told it was the young Lady Darlington, lately married, and we
will not say that the substance of this communication was not a relief
to Mary. They sat at the same side of the table, not very far divided,
and Mary's companion must have found her rather an absent neighbour, she
so often discovered her attention directed to what was being said by
Eugene Trevor, though there was nothing very particular to interest an
indifferent listener in his conversation with the young Countess.
Indeed, even to Mary it might have seemed most satisfactorily
uninteresting, neither did it appear incapable of speedy exhaustion, for
before the close of the repast, the Countess had turned her attention to
her other neighbour, a young captain of the Guards, who seemed to have a
greater flow of small talk at his disposal, whilst Eugene was joining in
general conversation with others of the company, or leaning forward ever
and anon, as if carelessly to review the guests beyond.
At length, Mary heard some remarks made upon some figs of peculiar
growth, which had appeared upon the table. A few minutes after, a
servant, to whom Trevor had been whispering some directions, brought the
dish containing them round to a lady, a seat or two below, and said,
distinctly enough for Mary to hear:
"Mr. Trevor sends these, Miss, with his compliments, and hopes you will
take one, as they come from Montrevor."
The lady, not a very attractive person, acceded to the request, most
graciously bending forward to smile and bow her acknowledgment of the
flattering attention bestowed upon her.
But Eugene Trevor, who had also bent forward, seemed anything but
gratified. On the contrary, he looked back in an irritated way at the
servant, as if dissatisfied with the manner in which he had performed
his behest; and in a few seconds more he had risen, and was standing
himself behind Mary's chair.
"That fool of a man," he said, in a suppressed tone, "evidently would
not know a rose from a peony. I told him to take those figs to the young
lady with the blue forget-me-nots in her white bonnet, and he took them
to your neighbour with the unconscionably large china-asters. You must
oblige me by taking one. They come out of my father's hot-house. I had
them picked on purpose to send to Silverton, as I remembered hearing you
say they were your favourite fruit; but Lady Dorington happened to call,
and carried them off for this affair of to-day."
Mary turned her head, and lifted up her face towards the speaker. A look
met hers from the dark eyes of Eugene Trevor--a look surely possessed of
deeper meaning--which must have been intended to plead a greater boon
than her acceptance of the fruit of his father's garden. And though the
next moment he was gone, and she left with a beating heart to taste the
luscious offering--nay, though he was scarcely many minutes by her side
again that afternoon--for dancing quickly succeeded the repast, and
Trevor did not dance, while Mary's hand was in great request--yet a
feeling of such perfect happiness had suddenly taken possession of her
soul, that she was fully contented to feel that, as he stood apart
amongst those not joining in the dance, Trevor's eye was constantly
following her every movement with earnest, never-diverted attention.
How strange the secret power which sometimes attracts one towards the
other, two beings of natures the most opposite!
Perhaps if two individuals had been chosen from amongst that large
assembly, by those who knew them best--who on the score of
incompatibility were least calculated to blend harmoniously together--it
would have been that pure-hearted, single-minded, high-souled girl,
whose ideal standard of the good and beautiful was of so refined and
elevated a nature, a standard hitherto kept intact by the peculiar
circumstances of her youthful existence--from whose very outward aspect
seemed to breathe the undisturbed harmony of her lovely character;--she
and that man, of a corrupted and corrupting world, upon whose brow was
set the mark of many a contracting aim, many a darkening thought, a
debasing pursuit, upon whose soul lay perhaps as dark a stain of actual
crime as any in that company;--yet it seemed that this mysterious
unaccountable power, did from the very first draw their hearts with
sympathetic unison one towards another.
Well it showed at least that Trevor's soul was not as yet "all evil,"
that it could still bow before an image of purity and goodness, such as
was enshrined in Mary's breast, and _she_--
"Why did she love him?--
Curious fool be still--
Is human love the growth of human will?"
Absorbed in her happy dreams, Mary drove home that evening with her
cousins, too happy, even, to be much disturbed by that generally most
fruitful source of disturbance, the bitter words passing between her
companions.
They seemed now to have been provoked by some imprudence of Mrs. de
Burgh's during that day; her husband's animadversions thereupon exciting
the lady's scornful resentment; but its exact nature, Mary had too
little observed Mrs. de Burgh during the day, to be able fully to
understand.
Mrs. de Burgh, on her part, had been too much occupied with her own
pleasure and interests to attend much to Mary and her concerns; but she
told her, as they parted for the night, that she expected Eugene the
next day to dinner.
Mary also had received information to the same effect, communicated in
her ear, as she was being handed to the carriage.
Expectation on this point was, however, doomed to disappointment; the
next evening, about the time that Eugene Trevor generally arrived, when
he was to dine and sleep at the house, a horseman was seen approaching
across the park, which proved to be a servant from Montrevor, mounted on
his master's beautiful chesnut. He was the bearer of a note to Mrs. de
Burgh.
Eugene Trevor wrote word that in returning home the preceding night,
with a friend, he had received a kick from his companion's horse, and
was now a prisoner to his bed. It was to him a most provoking accident,
on many accounts, but he supposed he must submit to at least a week's
confinement, as the medical man considered it his only chance of a
speedy recovery. Mary looked a little pale at dinner after this
intelligence, but was otherwise as cheerful, as calmly happy, as she had
been since the _fête_.
Mrs. de Burgh afterwards sent over to inquire after her cousin, and once
Mr. de Burgh, having occasion to ride into the neighbourhood, called to
see Trevor, and brought back word of his progress towards recovery.
The injury proved, however more tedious than it had at first been
anticipated. October had set in before he was allowed to walk; but still
Mary's spirits did not fail her.
If "love could live upon one smile for years," much more throughout a
few weeks of such unavoidable and accidental contingency.