A year has passed since the events recorded in the last chapter; things
have gone on much the same, Everard trying to appear indifferent, while
in reality he was not so, but succeeding so well that Isabel felt almost
ashamed of her preference for him, and was, also, only too successful in
concealing her true feelings. She is now paying Emily a visit, though it
was seldom that she could be persuaded to accept any invitation. But in
justice to her old friends, it must be said that they often endeavored
to do so. Ever since she came to Elm Grove she had always received
abundant invitations for the holidays; but, with the exception of the
Morningtons, Isabel had never been able to overcome her pride
sufficiently to visit, in her present position, those she had known when
in such different circumstances.
Harry and Emily, after travelling about for some time, had settled in
H----, not far from the college, and had insisted upon Everard spending
a great deal of his time with them, as they had fitted up a nice little
study for his especial use.
Emily was very anxious for the ordination, and had announced her
intentions to hear him preach his first sermon, let it be when and where
it might, in spite of his saying that he would go where he was quite
unknown.
"Now, Everard, I'm going to have a party on the fifth," said Emily, "and
I want you to bring some of the students, and I should like very much to
have tall, handsome ones, and none of your little 'ugly mugs.' I want
particularly that nice Mr. Elliott you introduced to me the other day."
"I do not choose my friends merely for their appearance, and Elliott is
not one of the students," returned Everard.
"Never mind who he is, I want him to come."
"I will ask him if he is in town; but I can't come, I am altogether too
busy."
"Nonsense, Everard, you only say that to vex me. I mean you to come,
that's pos'. Isn't he provoking, Isabel?"
"Perhaps his business is as important as it was that Christmas," said
Isabel, quietly.
Everard looked up quickly from his book, but Isabel was fully employed
with her tatting.
"What do you know about my engagements at that time?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing; only, perhaps, you can as easily put aside your work as
you did then."
"How do you know that it was so easy?" he inquired.
"Only from appearances."
"Appearances are often deceitful."
"Very."
Again the rapid glance of inquiry, but he could make nothing of her
placid countenance; and the single word "very," it must have been his
own imagination that gave significance to the very decided manner in
which she had uttered it, or did she, indeed, see through his assumed
indifference?
"You speak as though you had some experience," he said.
Isabel crimsoned, for she felt very guilty.
"Do you try to appear different to what you are in reality?" he
inquired.
"Do you?"
"Why do you ask?" he said.
"Why do you?" she retorted.
"Isabel, Isabel! the carriage will be here in five minutes," interposed
Emily, "make haste and put your things on."
The fifth came in due course, and Mr. Elliott with it. "Let me introduce
to you a partner," said Emily, taking him up to Isabel.
"We have known each other too long to need an introduction, have we not,
Isabel?" he said pleasantly. Then turning to Emily he added, "Thanks,
Mrs. Mornington, for an unexpected pleasure."
Everard, who was near by, heard him call her by her Christian name, and
saw the warm welcome accorded him, and the evident pleasure the meeting
caused Isabel. He was furiously jealous, and walked away intensely
disgusted.
"You are a stranger here, are you not?" asked Emily.
"Oh, quite."
"Then I leave you in Isabel's hands."
"Could not be in better," he said, smiling, and Charley Elliott's smile
was a very pleasant one. Emily was enchanted, and went to sing his
praises to Everard, much to his annoyance.
"Upon my word, Emily, if I were Harry I should be positively jealous."
"Oh, jealousy is not Harry's _forte_; he leaves that to Mr. Everard
Arlington," she said saucily, with a low curtsey and a most provokingly
wise expression.
"Emily!"
"Don't be a goose, Evie."
"Where have you been this long, long time, Isabel?" asked Elliott,
"I have missed you so much."
"Have you, Charley? I'm glad to hear that some one has missed me. The
happy past seems almost like a dream, it seems so far away."
"It was too bright to last; don't you think so, Isabel?"
"Perhaps so."
"Ah, those were days to remember, the excursions I had with you and
Harley. But I, too, have had my troubles," he added, gravely.
"Who is exempt?" she returned. "But what of Harley, foolish Harley?
Whatever possessed him to go to India? But," she added, with a sigh, "it
would not have availed him much to have stayed, as it turned out."
"I don't know; I think he would have done more wisely to have remained."
"Why he went, I never could fathom."
"You never knew?"
"Never. He assured me that he had good and sufficient reason, and that
papa thought so, too."
"I didn't think them good, or sufficient either, but he wouldn't take my
advice. It was our only quarrel, and I believe I have scarcely forgiven
him yet for going. It would, I am convinced, have been better for all if
he had not done so," and the tears stood in the young lieutenant's eyes.
Though brave as a lion, Charley Elliott had a kind and loving heart.
There was a soft, warm light in the deep-blue eyes; no one could know
Charley Elliott without loving him. Everard had no mean rival, if
Charley was one. But he was not. He loved Isabel, it is true, with all
the warmth of his ardent nature, but he loved her as he might a
beautiful sister. He thought her worthy of Harley--his Harley--the pride
of his boyhood, who in his eyes could do no wrong, until one day when he
told him that he was going to India. Charley's grief was excessive, but
his indignation arose when he learned the cause.
Harley Elliott was ten years his brother's senior. He was the favorite
clerk in the firm of Leicester & Co. Had Isabel to be met anywhere,
and her father was unable to go, Harley was invariably sent; he was
constantly at the house for one thing or another. As Isabel grew up he
was frequently called upon to escort her and her young friends to places
of amusement. As might be supposed, he became deeply in love with her,
until at last life was almost a burden, for Harley was sensitive and
high-minded to a degree: as a poor clerk, he was too proud to woo the
rich merchant's daughter. He determined, therefore, to try to amass
wealth in another land, and, if successful, to return and endeavor to
win her; if not, to remain forever away.
But Charley, a boy of sixteen, could not appreciate this course. "Stay
and be brave-hearted, Harley," he said, "she will, she must, love you,
and the Governor will not refuse." But all he could obtain from Harley
was a promise that he would tell Mr. Leicester the true cause of his
going. Charley had great hopes as to the success of this course, but
Harley was not so sanguine, and Harley was right. Mr. Leicester quite
approved of his going, and offered him letters of introduction to
parties at Calcutta. True, he inquired if the attachment was mutual. But
when Harley confessed that he had not sought to know, considering
himself in honor bound not to do so in his present circumstances, he was
well satisfied that it was so. He took care, also, to find out if Isabel
really had a preference for Harley, lest by urging his departure he
might make her unhappy. And it must be admitted that he was glad to see
that she was heart whole as yet, for he wished her to make a more
brilliant match. So he wished Harley success, and did all in his power
to hasten his departure.
Poor Charley had missed his brother sadly. He would have accompanied him
but for his mother, who was not strong, and certainly could not have
borne the climate.
"But your troubles, Charley; you have not told me of them," said Isabel.
"Is not Harley doing well?"
"Yes, now; but it was some time first. I am going to see him soon. But
it was my mother's death to which I alluded just now."
"Oh, have you lost your mother? Poor Charley!"
"Don't talk of her, Isabel, I can't bear it," and Charley brushed away a
tear.
Dance succeeded dance, and Isabel was still Charley's partner. "There
are half-a-dozen gentlemen dying to be introduced to Miss Leicester, and
you give them no chance, Mr. Elliott," said Emily.
"Very well, but remember, Isabel, that we are engaged for the
after-supper galop."
"I'll not forget," she returned.
Now it so chanced that Everard had so often been Isabel's partner for
that dance, that he began to consider it a matter of course, and was
highly offended when, after keeping away all the evening, he approached
her, saying, "This is our dance, is it not, Miss Leicester?" and she
replied, "You are too late, Mr. Arlington," and whirled off with Charley
Elliott.
"Why did you do that?" he asked, when Isabel was again seated.
"Was I to refuse a partner in case Mr. Arlington, after keeping away all
the evening, should condescend to ask me? I think you expect too much."
"You knew I should come."
"How could I know?"
"I always do."
"And do you always keep away all the evening?"
He bit his lip. "Will you dance this?"
"I am engaged."
"The next."
"Impossible, my card is quite filled up."
"Never mind, you can strike out one of the names."
"Why should I do so? You had the best chance; you were here from the
first, but from some whim determined not to put down your name, and
looked glum whenever I passed you, and now you think that I will treat
one of these young men so unhandsomely. No, Mr. Arlington, I will not."
"You chide me for not coming sooner. I thought you so well amused that I
was not needed."
"Needed, no; but still you have not been commonly civil to-night."
"You are very unforgiving."
"No, but I will not encourage your whims; you chose to sulk, it was no
fault of mine."
"As you will."
"I think this dancing awfully stupid," he said to Emily, as Isabel went
off with her partner, "I shall be glad when it is over."
"Of course," she replied, with a most provoking laugh.
"Parsons don't usually care for dancing," added Harry, in a tone equally
irritating.
But for Charley Elliott the evening would have been dull enough to
Isabel. She would far rather have had Everard for a partner than any of
those whose names were on her programme, but she believed that he had
purposely avoided her all the earlier part of the evening: besides,
Everard's manner towards her of late had become quite an enigma--now
cold, almost haughty, then again soft, even tender, then
indifferent--and Isabel resented its variableness. She was the more
annoyed, as she knew that Emily was not quite in the dark.
"I think Mr. Elliott is a very nice young man, don't you, Isabel?" said
Emily at breakfast next morning.
"Very," replied Isabel, coloring warmly as she caught Everard's
penetrating glance.
"A done thing, I see," laughed Harry.
"How can you be so absurd, Harry?"
Are you fond of sea voyages?" he continued.
"I think them delightful."
"Capital. Did you know that he was going to India?"
"Yes."
"You did? Well, really."
"Oh, Harry, be quiet."
"I thought you two seemed awfully good friends. Did you know him before
last night?"
"Certainly."
"I am sure you don't agree with Everard that the party was a dreadfully
slow affair?"
"Oh, no; it was very pleasant."
"I was very sure that Miss Leicester did not find it dull," said Everard
coldly, almost scornfully.
"Goosey, goosey!" said Emily, later in the day, as she came upon Everard
in the music-room.
"Why do you go on in this provoking way, Emily?" he said, angrily.
"Because I have no patience with this stupid jealousy. If you care for
her, why not try to win her in a straightforward manner; if not, why be
vexed that another should?"
"Why do you strive to undo that which has cost me so much? She is
nothing to me; I have determined that she shall be nothing."
"Then why so jealous?"
"I cannot help it; you know that I cannot."
"But why force yourself to give her up?"
"Why, indeed," he echoed, "is it not worse than useless to cherish an
attachment for one who is so perfectly indifferent?"
"I do not believe that she is as indifferent and inaccessible as you
imagine."
"Why do you tempt me, Emily?" he returned, almost fiercely. "Let me be;
the ordination will be very shortly, and I am sure of an appointment
directly after."
"Ah, goosey, goosey! 'Faint heart,' you know," she said, and left
him--more angry with his favorite sister than he had ever been before.