She hath flung
Her all upon the venture of her vow,
And in her trust leans meekly, like a flower,
By the still river tempted from its stem
And on its bosom floating.
WILLIS.
Mary did not feel quite equal to face her cousin and his friend in her
present state of mind; therefore, on the first movement making itself
heard in the direction of the library, she took alarm and escaped up
stairs, leaving Trevor, who did not suffer the same shamefaceness, to
undergo the encounter alone. Mary first went to her own room, then
shortly after, trying to look as if nothing had happened, proceeded to
Mrs. Trevyllian's apartment, to wish her cousin good night. She found
the ladies both reclining on their respective sofas, and was cordially
welcomed by each, as if by this time they had began to have had enough
of each other's uninterrupted society.
"Do you know that Mr. Trevor is here?" Mary murmured to her cousin, with
averted countenance.
"Why, I fancied you had a visitor of some sort," Mrs. de Burgh replied
with a smile of arch significance. "Was I not good to leave you
undisturbed?" she added at the same time in a whisper, trying to catch a
glimpse of Mary's face, whilst Mrs. Trevyllian turned upon it a glance
of such scrutinizing curiosity, that Mary finding this an ordeal,
unendurable for the present, bade them "good night," and made her escape
back to the sheltered sanctity of her solitary chamber, where no
intruding gaze could pierce, to meddle with the shrinking, modest joy,
which overflowed her heart.
But it seems that Mrs. de Burgh, with all pardonable curiosity,
considering she was not quite unprepared for what Eugene Trevor's visit
would bring forth, had gone down-stairs after Mary left her, and had a
long private conversation with her cousin; for though she did not
disturb her again that night, it being very late before the interview
came to an end; yet the next morning, just as Mary was endeavouring to
clear her senses, and remember whether what had occurred the night
before had been a dream or a reality, Olivia made her appearance to
embrace and congratulate her on the happy intelligence she had received.
"You cannot imagine, dear Mary," she said, "how pleased I was when
Eugene told me. It is just what I have wished all along. I have always
been very fond of Eugene; all that he required was a good wife, such as
he will find in you; and I feel convinced that he will make you very
happy."
Mary smiled, as if she too felt perfectly satisfied on this point.
"Louis," Mrs. de Burgh continued, "will most likely say that he is not
half good enough for you, but I suppose you will not feel much inclined
to agree with him there. As far as that goes, I assure you Eugene thinks
the same, but that is only as it should be, the more humble men's ideas
of themselves, and the more exalted their views of us, the better; they
are not often disposed to hold such doctrine. Of course you cannot
expect that even Eugene, has been, or ever will be, a piece of
perfection in character or conduct; but ah, I see by your face that you
think him so now, at any rate, so what signifies the _has been_, or the
_may be_? Well, you are quite right. 'Sufficient for the day' is my
motto, and, as I said before, I am convinced Eugene will love you as
much as ever wife was loved."
Mary's beaming eyes spoke indeed her perfect satisfaction, at this
summing up of Mrs. de Burgh's discourse. The rest she heeded not; it
agreed so little with the spirit of her pure and perfect love, and she
then inquired whether "Eugene," (with a blushing smile, as for the
first time she called him by that name,) had made Louis acquainted with
the fact of their engagement. She should be very glad if this were the
case, as she could not keep it a secret for a moment longer from her
kind cousin than was necessary; but Eugene seemed the evening before,
rather to wish that she should delay the communication for a day or two.
"Yes," replied Mrs. de Burgh, "he told me so last night, and still would
prefer our being silent on the subject just at present. The fact is, he
anticipates some little difficulty in reconciling his father to the idea
of his marriage. Uncle Trevor is rather a strange old man. Besides being
very fond of his son, he may imagine such an event likely to interfere
with the comfort he has in his society at Montrevor, not, of course,
that Eugene would allow that to be any obstacle; but only he thinks, I
dare say, that it is as well to keep the matter as snug as possible,
till he has prepared the old man's mind a little for the change."
"Oh, of course," Mary said. "It is much better that it should be so. It
is only Louis, who I should not like to keep in the dark longer than was
really necessary, staying as I am in his house, and he being so near and
responsible a relation. Besides, it will be so difficult when Eugene is
here, to prevent letting it appear that something peculiar has
happened."
Mrs. de Burgh laughed.
"Well! Eugene seemed to think that he would find it rather difficult
too, and for that reason imagined it better to go away this morning
before breakfast. He gave out last night, what is partly true, that he
only came here _en route_ to M----, where he has business to transact;
he will return home to-night, and begin operations on the old gentleman.
In the meantime, as the most likely means to expedite and facilitate
matters, Eugene has set his heart upon a little plan which he
commissioned me to lay before you, and also to beseech you, with his
most tender love, not to disappoint his wishes on the subject."
Mary's countenance seemed to say that already his request was granted,
but she paused for further information.
"He proposes," continued Mrs. de Burgh, "that, perhaps not the next day,
but the one following, you and I should drive over to Montrevor to
luncheon, and that in this way his father, before he knows of anything
being in the wind, should see and know you--and he thinks--as a matter
of course, be charmed and delighted, and so half the battle gained at
once."
Mary smiled.
"But what will Louis say to this?" she inquired, "he will object now, I
suppose, as much as formerly, to our driving to Montrevor."
"_Louis!_ how very good you are Mary, why you are not half in love if
you would allow ought that Louis could say or think, to interfere with
anything in which Eugene is concerned now. But to set your mind at ease
on this point, Louis happens to leave home this morning and does not
return till the next day, so you need not have to tell any stories on
the subject, and perhaps, when you see him again, you may be able to
divulge all, and he have no more business to quarrel with your drives to
Montrevor."
Mary gave a yielding smile, and we are afraid that even if she had
entertained any conscientious scruples after the above discourse, they
would have melted quite away after the first love-letter she received,
under cover to one addressed to Mrs. de Burgh, from Eugene Trevor on the
following morning. A little note which she wrote in reply, necessarily
settled the point.
Mr. de Burgh took his departure early the next morning, and his fair
lady ordered the pony carriage to come round at noon the same day, for
their drive to Montrevor, which was more than twelve miles distant.
"Adieu, happy people, you will have a delightful drive!" sighed Mrs.
Trevyllian, who had actually been emboldened by the absence of gentlemen
to face the sunshine beneath the cover of her crape veil, and to go out
for a stroll upon the lawn.
And a delightful drive it was, at least to Mary. It would have been so,
even under less favourable auspices, with the same happy prospects at
the end. A visit to her intended, under his father's roof! But even
nature seemed to smile upon her hopes. It was a perfect specimen of an
October day, with the balmy and refreshing warmth, sometimes
characterizing this period of the year; the sky serene and clear, above
their heads, whilst the woods and trees which skirted the roads, along
which they so swiftly sped, were still in one rich golden glow.
And it was not for Mary, on this happy day, to think, how there wanted
but one chill and wintry blast to lay these thousand glories low.
She naturally felt a little nervous when she was informed they were
approaching their destination. The trembling happiness of meeting Eugene
for the first time since their last eventful interview, made her heart
beat fast--and then there was her introduction to his father, the
"strange old man," on whom the impression she should make was to her,
for Eugene's sake, of such great importance.
Mrs. de Burgh, in her conversation, during the drive, touched in great
measure on the subject of this relative.
She described him as having for years lived a very reclusive life at
Montrevor; and thus to have acquired peculiarities and eccentricities,
even beyond those which in a degree were natural to his habits and
disposition--one of which, by her account, seemed to be an inclination
to the most rigid parsimony, and she prepared Mary to see some signs of
this in the character of their entertainment upon the present occasion.
"Of course," Mrs. de Burgh added, "Eugene does not much interest himself
in amending such matters at present, and indeed during his father's
life-time--or perhaps till he married--it was of little consequence to
him, and to say the truth, any interference on his part would not have
been of much avail, for an old favourite servant has hitherto held
sovereign sway over the house. However, it will be all very different
some of these days," she added with a smile, "when a Mrs. Eugene Trevor
comes into power."