But should detraction breathe thy name,
The world's reproofs defying;
I'd love thee, laud thee--trust thee still--
Upon thy truth relying.
HAYNES BAYLEY.
Mr. de Burgh's return was somewhat opportunely delayed until the day
following the one on which he was expected, so that Mary had only for
one evening to maintain the, to her, very repugnant and unaccustomed
system of concealment and comparative dissimulation, to which she was
reduced towards her kind and amiable relative, a course she was ably
assisted in by his wife. The following morning brought a note from
Trevor, written overnight, and despatched before breakfast by a servant;
the substance of which was of a most satisfactory nature.
He had broken the news to his father, that is to say, had given him to
understand that, sooner or later, it was his intention to take unto
himself a wife; that Mr. Trevor had been, of course, at first, a little
startled and annoyed, and made fidgetty and uneasy by the intelligence;
but that it had seemed no little relief to his mind, when informed that
it was the nice, pretty, gentle, _moderate_ young lady-visitor of the
day before, upon whom his son had fixed his choice; a young lady who,
though of good family and respectable position, possessed no extravagant
tastes or preposterous pretensions; to sum up all, as complete a
contrast as he could wish, to his spoilt, expensive and exacting niece,
whom, allowing for the ties of relationship existing between them, he
had always held in distaste and terror, as one of the most
ill-disciplined of woman, of course according to his own peculiar
notions on the subject.
In short, whatever difficulty might really have attended his important
revelation to his father, Trevor only brought forward the smooth side of
the matter; and he further desired that no time might be lost in
imparting the intelligence to Mr. de Burgh also, as then he should only
wait her summons to make all speed for Silverton.
"Why did Trevor's man come scampering here so early?" enquired Mr. de
Burgh at the close of breakfast.
"He brought a little note for me," replied his wife.
"What about?"
"Oh, a little private business of mine own; are you very curious?" she
added, whilst Mary took little Charlie on her knee, to hide her
conscious countenance. "Very well, you may be informed perhaps before
long."
She uttered all this with more playful and propitiatory suavity of tone
and manner than she often condescended to use towards her husband,
having probably in view her forthcoming interview, for she had proposed
to Mary that she should first take upon herself to break the
intelligence to Mr. de Burgh of _his_ cousin's engagement to _her_
cousin, Eugene Trevor; an offer to which Mary had willingly acceded.
Accordingly, very shortly after they parted at the breakfast-table, Mrs.
de Burgh followed her husband into the library, where he had gone to
write his letters.
Mary, as may be supposed, waited with some degree of nervous anxiety for
the close of this interview--more perhaps than might have seemed
suitable to the occasion, or than she could herself account for. Surely
her cousin Louis was of no such very formidable a character. She tried
to divert her mind during the interval, by occupying herself with the
children, who were playing in the drawing-room, but she soon found the
noisy merriment, and exacting attentions of the little creatures--as we
are, even with the sweetest and most engaging, all apt to do, when the
mind is in any way agitated or over-burdened--an infliction rather than
a relief; so she gladly relinquished them to the nurse, who came to
summon them for their walk; and then as she justly deemed the
_éclaircissement_ between her cousins had lasted quite as long as was
either necessary or desirable, and that it would be less formidable to
join them at once than to wait any longer, in suspense, a formal
summons, she determined to proceed to the library, and soon had carried
this determination into effect.
Opening the door rather timidly, she found Mrs. de Burgh seated with an
expression of countenance plainly evincing that even a discussion in
which they were neither personally concerned, had not passed off without
giving occasion for altercation between the married pair; but
immediately on perceiving Mary, she smoothed her brow, and exclaiming:
"Oh here she is! well I will leave you together," smiled encouragement
on Mary, and left the room.
Mr. de Burgh, who it seemed had been perambulating the apartment during
the latter part of his conversation with his wife, and had paused before
the window on Mary's entrance--now turned, and without exactly looking
her in the face, held out his hand as he advanced towards her, saying:
"Well, I suppose I ought to congratulate you, Mary."
His countenance too, Mary saw, bore signs of annoyance; but that his
recent quarrel might have effected, and she affectionately placed her
hand in his, and looked her thanks for the implied felicitations, coldly
and cautiously as they were conveyed.
"You have done a great deal in my absence, I find Mary," he next said,
throwing himself upon a chair. She thought he alluded to the proposal of
Eugene and her acceptance, so answered in her truthful manner, and
somewhat apologetically.
"Oh, no! not in your absence; that took place a day or two before you
left, but Eugene thought it better that I should--"
"Oh yes!" he answered with some repressed impatience, "I have heard all
that--I mean to say that you have been taken to Montrevor to see your
future possessions; introduced to the old father--in short, everything
has been so well managed between Trevor and Olivia, that there only
requires the signing and sealing to make the whole thing sure, before
you know _yourself_ very well what you are about."
"Indeed, Louis?" Mary answered gently, though at the same time
surprised--in spite of Mrs. de Burgh's warning as to the objections she
was sure to encounter--at the tone and tenor of her cousin's words; and
feeling naturally a little hurt and offended, she added "I do not quite
understand you. I assure you, I know very well what I am about."
"Do you?" he said, with something of the sneering way of which Mrs. de
Burgh so often complained; "I think not--I don't know indeed how you
should--"
"I have promised to marry one whom I love, and whose love for me I feel
sure is as deep and truthful as my own," Mary replied, the colour
mounting to her brow, and a tear glistening in her eyes,
"Like a child who never knew but love,
And who words of wrath surprised."
"Oh, of course! no doubt of all that," he said, much in the same tone.
"Well! what then, Louis?" she enquired meekly, yet firmly, "Why--what
cause?--"
"What cause or impediment why these two persons should not be lawfully
joined together in holy wedlock?" repeated her cousin, breaking suddenly
into a more amiable and lively tone and manner, as if not proof against
the gentle manner in which his ungracious strictures were received. "I
will tell you why--he is not good enough for you, Mary, or rather, you
are far too good for him."
"Is that all?" Mary's quiet smile might have seemed to express, for she
had been previously prepared for this particular objection of her
cousin's, by his wife.
"_You_ think so, Louis," she replied, "but forgive me if I differ from
that opinion."
"Yes, I certainly think so," he coldly retorted, "we read in
the bible that 'we are not to be unequally yoked together with
unbelievers,'--nay," as Mary attempted to interrupt him, "I do not speak
literally--Eugene's religious faith may be, for aught I know, as pure as
my own, or yours--but 'what fellowship has righteousness with
unrighteousness, and what companionship has light with darkness--and
what concord hath--'"
"Louis, Louis!" Mary interposed, the crimson blood mantling her cheeks
and brow, and her gentle eyes flashing fire, "in your exaggerated
estimate of my own worthiness you are unjust, you are injurious towards
Eugene, as well as unkind to me. Yes, is it not unkindness to bring
forth such slighting insinuations against one whom you know I love, must
ever love, and whose wife," she added, lifting up her eyes as if she
felt the compact signed and sealed at least in heaven, "I have promised
to become."
"Well--well, Mary," Mr. de Burgh soothingly replied; not totally
unaffected by this unwonted demonstration of excited spirit in his calm
and gentle cousin; "I will not ask you not to love Trevor; that I
suppose--indeed, I too plainly see would be crying out to shut the door
after the horse was stolen, but I may--I must advise you," he added with
an expression of great kindness, "as a cousin, feeling himself under
present circumstances almost standing in the place of a brother, to be
in no haste to involve yourself irremediably in so important and
irreparable a step as marriage, without further knowledge, a clearer
insight into the nature of the man who will have the rule and influence
over your whole future destiny. Oh, to see," he continued, with
increased excitement, "how people do rush ignorantly and recklessly upon
this matter, it might seem that the happiness of a whole lifetime was
nothing in comparison to the gratification of a passing fancy, a
temporary infatuation."
He paused, but Mary made no reply. Her cousin spoke feelingly, no doubt,
he often expressed himself thus warmly after having been provoked more
than usual, or put out of humour by some altercation with his wife. She
thought it might be but the angry insinuations of the excited
moment--for she often hoped, indeed was sure, that beneath this outward
show of bitterness and strife, which bad habit had engendered, in the
intercourse between man and wife--a fund of real, genuine affection, one
towards another, lay deep and dormant in either heart, but especially in
that of the husband's. But what availed all this towards "the mutual
society, help, comfort," which, as the marriage service sets forth, "one
ought to have had towards the other," whilst the most indispensable
requisites to that effect, "to bear and to forbear," were wanting.
"Husbands love your wives, and be not bitter against them. Wives submit
yourselves to your husbands as unto the Lord." How came it that the
injunctions to which they had both listened at the altar had been so
soon, to all appearances, forgotten or disregarded?
So Mary, as we have said, made no reply. She only lowered her long dark
lashes, and waited in painful silence the close of her cousin's supposed
philippic, one with which she considered she had no individual concern.
For what had passing fancy or momentary infatuation to do with her own
deep, true, steadfast love?
Mr. de Burgh receiving no interruption, in a calmer tone continued:
"And Trevor, he loves you, as he has given good proof, (and for this I
honour and applaud him,) and thus loving you, is of course everything
agreeable, irreproachable in your eyes. But dear Mary, I speak to one
whom I am aware is no rash, unreasonable fool; but a right-judging,
thoughtful, superior woman. What do you know of his real character and
secret qualities? what _can_ you know of the previous tenor of his
life?"
Mary lifted up her clear truthful eyes to her cousin's face.
"As to the nature of his character, and the tenor of his life," she
quickly replied, "that surely I can have scarcely cause to doubt or
question. There could not possibly be anything very reproachable in the
character and life of one admitted as a constant and familiar guest in
your house, Louis. True, he is Olivia's cousin; but then again, how fond
she is of that cousin; and though," she added smiling, "you may have
testified no such great affection for him, still how kindly, if not
cordially, you have ever seemed to receive and countenance this
intimate visitor."
Mr. de Burgh was fairly nonplussed for the moment, by this just, though
simple argument. How indeed, could it be supposed that it should enter
into the thoughts of his pure minded cousin, cautiously and coldly to
observe, watch, or inquire into the life and character of the man to
whom not only her heart had so instinctively and spontaneously
inclined--but her love for whom not only circumstance and opportunity,
but, if not the connivance, to say the least, the tacit approval of
those who were at present responsible for her welfare, had seemed in
every way to encourage and facilitate; and Mr. de Burgh could not quite
comfort his conscience, as he was at first willing to do, by attributing
the blame of this, in his opinion, undesirable issue of affairs to the
foolish, inconsiderate match-making propensities of his wife. There was
no slight misgiving as to culpable, or rather careless negligence on his
own part.
For when or how had he, with no such allowance for cousinly feeling or
partiality as Mrs. de Burgh--when or how had he, save occasionally by a
few slighting, sneering innuendoes, such as not unfrequently defeat
their own purpose, by strengthening and promoting in the generous mind
of youth the germs of true attachment which previously have been
engendered; how had he--save by those careless and ill judged
means--ever warned, cautioned, or even given his young relative to
understand, ere it was too late, that there was in the favoured cousin
of his wife, and his own cheerful tolerated guest, anything either
reprehensible in himself, or objectionable in their attachment, or even
union? No, absorbed in his own selfish interests, his own pursuits, he
had gone his way "to his farm or to his merchandize," and never given
his mind the trouble to think or care whether much might not be doing
which it would require more than a few strongly expressed adjurations
and highly coloured representations on his part to undo--which, in
short, must cause him practically to prove
"He might as soon go kindle fire with snow
As seek to quench the fire of love with words."
He probably thought all this during the short silence which succeeded
Mary's last address; and had at length nothing better to say in reply,
and that with some conscious impatience, than--
"Oh, my dear Mary, as to this view of the matter, in the present state
of the world, it would be impossible to shut one's doors or turn one's
back upon many a person, whom we should on the other hand be very sorry
to see more closely associated with those for whom we feel interest or
affection."
"But of what, then, do you accuse Eugene?" Mary inquired, still with the
quiet confidence of one whose faith and trust are yet unshaken. And Mr.
de Burgh was again at fault.
There is a natural code of honour subsisting between men of any
generosity of mind, which sensitively withholds them from a direct
exposure of those reprehensible points of conduct or of character for
which they have not openly and to the face of the offender testified
their blame or abhorrence. And to have now coolly set to work, and laid
before the eyes of Mary facts or fancies concerning the man with whom he
had ever lived on terms of friendly intercourse, and so deprive him, as
was at least his desired purpose, of the blessing which, perhaps for
some good end, had been assigned him; all this assumed--when thus by
Mary's question brought so directly to the point--an aspect somewhat of
a dastardly and serpent-like character.
So, rising from his seat and taking a turn across the room, as if by
movement to assist himself in this dilemma, Louis de Burgh replied:
"Accuse! why that is rather a strong term to use, Mary. I should not
like to accuse any man, or even to prejudice you against Trevor; but
still, without particularising any enormities, there must be many things
in the life and character of a man, hitherto so entirely given to the
world and its pursuits, which must make him in the eyes of many besides
myself, not exactly the person worthy to become the husband of my pure
and gentle-hearted cousin."
Mary drooped her eyelids sadly and thoughtfully. Perhaps the
recollection of Mr. Temple, and all that he had brought forward against
this evil world, of which she now heard her lover so decidedly
pronounced the votary, passed before her mind; but of the real nature or
extent of that evil she could form but so obscure and vague an idea,
that in her present state of feeling it only awoke in her heart a more
sorrowful interest, to think that it was Eugene's fate to be exposed to
its dread and grievous influence.
"Perhaps you think, as women so often flatter themselves," Mr. de Burgh
continued, as she uttered no comment on his words, "that the power of
your _love_ will suffice to reform all that may be amiss."
"No, no!" interrupted Mary; "believe me, Louis, I have no such
presumptuous expectations--no such reliance on my own influence and
power, to reform, what a higher strength and higher power alone could
effect; but I should indeed have faith and hope--"
"Oh yes, I daresay, and boundless charity to boot!" interposed her
cousin with a smile; for he began to perceive, perhaps, that he was
making but a bad business of the affair he had taken in hand. "Well,
well, Mary; all I can say is, that if Trevor is destined to possess you,
he will be more fortunate than many a better man, if I may dare so to
express myself before you; for he will, I feel pretty sure, be blessed
with one of those loving and amiable, faithful and obedient wives, such
as the Church directs us to pray that each woman may become who
approaches the altar as a bride, but which petition, I am sorry to say,
we do not in _every case_ see fulfilled."
"My dear Louis, I fear you are inclined to be very severe to-day on all
(I must thankfully own) except myself; but tell me, if you are not
compelled to confess that I also may hope to possess a loving, amiable,
and faithful husband (obedient, you know, is not enjoined in his case).
You say I do not know enough of Eugene to be convinced of his real
qualities; I think you are mistaken in this. It does not surely require
a very long acquaintance to discern whether a person is amiable; and I
am nearly certain no partial affection would blind me in that respect. I
should say Eugene's temper was perfect--oh! of course you laugh at me--I
do not quite mean perfect, though even if it were not--"
"Oh no, of course, if he had the temper of the devil--excuse me Mary--I
have no doubt you would be content at present; but I do not wish to say
anything against Trevor's temper, I would not undertake to do so. He is
a good son to all appearance; what kind of husband he will make remains
to be proved."
"That he will ever love me less than he does now, I cannot, could not
_try_ even to fancy," Mary continued, with a voice tremulous with
feeling; "and now, at least you must confess that his affection for me
is most true, most purely disinterested; that he loves me for myself
alone; or how else would he wish to marry one who possesses neither
beauty, talents, or fortune."
"By the bye," rejoined Mr. de Burgh, as if the subject had been but
suddenly suggested to his mind by Mary's latter words, "I suppose you
are aware to what circumstances Eugene is indebted for the position he
now, to all appearance, holds as his father's heir?"
"Yes," Mary responded, rather sadly, "to the mental derangement of his
brother."
"Yes, that is the plea," Mr. de Burgh coldly replied.
"But," Mary continued, after a pause, and without having been struck by
any peculiar emphasis her cousin might have placed upon these latter
words, "Olivia, I think, told me at the same time, that this misfortune
was purely accidental, that at least there was no hereditary evil of the
kind existing in the family."
"Oh, none whatever; most perfectly accidental, I believe," was Mr. de
Burgh's apparently careless rejoinder, as he stood looking out of the
window, as he had done on Mary's entrance. And here the conversation
ended, except that Mary, before leaving the room, approached her cousin,
saying in an affectionate tone:
"And now, before I go, Louis, you will wish me joy, I am sure."
"Most certainly, dear Mary," he replied, as he fervently wrung her
proffered hand, "all possible joy and happiness that heaven and earth
can bestow upon you."
"Thank you very much, dear Louis," Mary replied, "and I may write," she
added, more timidly, "and tell him that he may come; I would not let him
do so again, till I had informed you of our engagement."
"Oh yes, write of course if you like, most certainly."
And Mary, again thanking him, left the library, and returned to the
drawing-room.