Slowly, silently, and still unseen, stole the soft luminary of night
towards her burning god--till a slight shadow on his lower limb
betokened the contact.
"The ekwipse is commencing," said Smythje, holding the glass to his eye.
"The sun and moon are just kissing, like two lovers. How pwetty it is!
Dawn't yaw think so, fayaw Kate?"
"Rather a distant kiss for lovers, I should say--some ninety odd
millions of miles between them!"
"Haw, haw! veway good, veway good indeed! And in that sawt of thing,
distance dawn't lend enchantment to the view. Much bettaw to be near,
just as yaw and I are at this moment. Dawn't yaw think so, fayaw Kate?"
"That depends upon circumstances--whether the love be reciprocal."
"Wecipwocal!--yas, twoo enough--thaw is something in that."
"A great deal, I should think, Mr Smythje. For instance, were I a man,
and my sweetheart was frowning on me--as yonder moon seems to be upon
his majesty the sun--I should keep my distance, though it were ninety
millions of miles."
Had Mr Smythje at that moment only removed the glass from his eye, and
turned towards _his_ sweetheart, he might have read in her looks that
the speech just made possessed a significance, altogether different from
the interpretation which it pleased him to put upon it.
"Haw, haw! veway pwetty of yaw, 'pon honaw! But yaw must wemember that
yondaw moon has two faces. In that she wesembles the queetyaw called
woman. Her bwight face is turned towards the sun, and no doubt she is
at this moment smiling upawn the fellaw. Her frowns, yaw see, are faw
us, and all the west of mankind; thawfo' she wesembles a devoted
queetyaw. Dawn't yaw think so, fayaw Kate?"
Kate was compelled to smile, and for a short moment regarded Smythje
with a glance which might have been mistaken for admiration. In the
analogy which the exquisite had drawn there was a scintillation of
intellect--the more striking that it was not expected from such a
source. Withal, the glance was rather indicative of surprise than
admiration, though Smythje evidently interpreted it for the latter--his
self-esteem assisting him to the interpretation.
Before she could make reply, he repeated the interrogatory.
"Oh, yes!" answered she, the smile disappearing from her countenance; "I
can well imagine, Mr Smythje, that your simile is just. I should think
that a woman who loves devotedly, would not bestow her smiles on any
other than him she loves; and though he were distant as yonder sun, in
her heart she would smile on him all the same."
The young Creole as she spoke lowered her eyes, no longer regarding the
eclipse, but as if involuntarily directing her glance downward.
"Ah, yes!" continued she in thought, "and even if alike impossible for
them ever to meet, still would her smiles be his! Ah, yes!"
For some seconds she remained silent and abstracted. Smythje, attracted
by the altered tone of her voice, had taken the telescope from his eye,
and turned towards her.
Observing this abstracted air, which he had often before remarked, he
did not think of attributing it to any other cause than that which his
vanity had already divined. Kate Vaughan was in love; and with whom but
himself?
His sympathetic soul was ready to give way; and he was almost on the
point of departing from the programme which he had so ingeniously traced
out. But the remembrance of the pretty speeches he had rehearsed with
Thoms--and the thought that any deviation from the original design would
deprive him of the pleasure of witnessing the effects which they must
undoubtedly produce--restrained him from a premature declaration, and he
remained silent.
It did not hinder him from some unspoken reflections.
"Poor queetyaw! evidently suffwing! Neithaw distance nor absence can
make the slightest impwession upon her love--not the slightest. Ba
Jawve! I feel more than half-inclined to bweak the spell, and reweive
her fwom her miseway. But no--it would nevaw do. I must wesist the
temptation. A little more suffwing can do no harm, since the situation
of the queetyaw wesembles the pwoverb: `The darkest hour is that which
is neawest the day.' Haw! haw!"
And with this fanciful similitude before his mind, the sympathetic and
self-denying lover concluded his string of complacent reflections; and
returning the glass to his eye, once more occupied himself in ogling the
eclipse.
The young Creole, seeing him thus engaged, withdrew to one side; and
placing herself on the very edge of the cliff, stood gazing outward and
downward. It was evident that the grand celestial phenomenon had no
attraction for her. She cared neither to look upon the sun, nor the
moon, nor the stars that would soon be visible in the fast-darkening
sky. Her eyes, like her thoughts, were turned upon the earth; and as
the penumbra began to cast its purple shadow over the fair face of
Nature, so could a cloud be seen overspreading her beautiful
countenance.
There was now deep silence below and around. In a few seconds of time a
complete change had taken place. The uttering of the forest was no
longer heard. The birds had suddenly ceased their songs, and if their
voices came up at intervals, it was in screams and cries that denoted
fear. Insects and reptiles had become silent, under the influence of a
like alarm. The more melancholy sounds alone continued--the sighing of
the trees, and the sough of the distant waterfall. This transformation
reminded Kate Vaughan of the change which had taken place in her own
heart. Almost equally rapid had it been--the result of only a few days,
or perhaps only hours: for the once gay girl had become, of late,
habitually grave and taciturn. Well might she compare her thoughts to
the forest sounds! The cheerful and musical were gone--those that were
melancholy alone remained!
For this change there was a cause, not very different from that which
Smythje had divined. He was right in assigning it to that passion--the
most powerful that can dwell in a woman's heart.
Only as to its object did Mr Smythje labour under a misconception. His
self-conceit had guided him to a very erroneous conjecture. Could he
have divined the thoughts at that moment passing in the mind of his
companion, it would have completely cured him of the conceit that he was
the maker of that melancholy.
The mansion of Mount Welcome was in sight, gaily glittering amidst
gorgeous groves. It was not upon it that the eyes of Kate Vaughan were
bent; but upon a sombre pile, shadowed by great cotton-trees, that lay
in the adjoining valley. Her heart was with her eyes.
"Happy Valley!" soliloquised she, her thoughts occasionally escaping in
low murmur from her lips. "Happy for _him_, no doubt! There has he
found a welcome and a home denied him by those whose duty it was to have
offered both. There has he found hospitality among strangers; and
there, too--"
The young girl paused, as if unwilling to give words to the thought that
had shaped itself in her mind.
"No," continued she, unable to avoid the painful reflection; "I need not
shut my eyes upon the truth. It is true what I have been told--very
true, I am sure. There has he found one to whom he has given his
heart!"
A sigh of deep anguish succeeded the thought.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, resuming the sad soliloquy; "he promised me a
strong arm and a stout heart, if I should ever need them. Ah, me!
promise now bitter to be remembered--no longer possible to be kept! And
the ribbon he was to prize so highly--which gave me such joy as he said
it. Only another promise broken! Poor little souvenir! no doubt, long
ere this, cast aside and forgotten! ah, me!"