A FRIEND'S ADVICE.
"But," asked Leone, anxiously, "will that be safe, Lance? Supposing that
any one should hear and recognize the names, what then?"
"There is no fear. Nothing can ever be done without risk; but there is
no risk there--at least, none that I fear to run. I guarantee that not
one person in that church hears those names clearly. Then you will see
that I have arranged every detail. Then, when the three weeks have
expired, we will meet there some fine morning and be married. I have a
friend who will come with me as a witness. After that I propose that we
go to London, and there I shall introduce you to my father first; then
we will go down to Cawdor to my mother. Do you like the plan, Leone?"
"I should like it much better if they could know of it beforehand," she
replied, gravely.
His face grew grave as her own.
"That cannot be," he replied. "You see, Leone, I am not of age; I shall
not be twenty-one until September: and if my parents knew of it, they
have power to forbid the marriage, and we could not be married; but done
without their knowledge, they are of course powerless."
"I do not like it," she said, with a shudder; "I would rather all was
open and sincere."
"It cannot be. Why, Leone, where is your reason? If even your uncle
knew, he would interfere to prevent it. In his slow, stolid, honest mind
he would think such a marriage quite wrong, you may be sure; he would
talk about caste, and position, and all kinds of nonsense. We must keep
our secret to ourselves, my darling, if we wish to be married at all.
Surely, Leone, you love me enough to sacrifice your wishes to me on this
point?"
The beautiful face was raised to his.
"I love you well enough to die for you, and far too well to bring
trouble on you, Lance."
"My darling, there is only one thing that can bring trouble on me, and
that would be to lose you; that would kill me. You hear me, Leone, it
would not make me grow thin and pale, after the fashion of rejected
lovers, but it would kill me. Do not ask me to leave you an hour longer
than I need. Ah, my love, yield: do not grieve me with a hundred
obstacles--not even with one. Yield, and say that you will agree to my
plan."
There was no resisting the pleading of the handsome young face, the
loving eyes, the tender words, the passionate kisses; she could not
resist them; it was so sweet to be loved so well.
"You must keep our secret from that honest, stolid, good uncle of
yours," said Lord Chandos, "or he will think himself bound to call and
tell Dr. Hervey. You promise me, then, Leone, my love, to do what I ask,
and to be my own beloved wife, when the three weeks are over?"
"Yes, I promise, Lance," she replied.
Her voice was grave and sweet, her beautiful face had on it the light of
a beautiful and noble love.
"Then kiss me, as the children say, of your own accord, and let that
kiss be our betrothal."
She raised her lips to his for the first time and kissed him.
"That is our betrothal," he said; "now nothing can part us. Leone, I
waited for your promise to give you this."
He opened a small jewel-case, and took from it a diamond ring.
"This is what ladies call an engagement-ring," he said; "let me put it
on your finger."
She shrank back.
"Lance," she said, "do you remember the words of the song,
"'A ring in pledge he gave her,
And vows of love he spoke.'
How strange that by this stream you should offer me a ring!"
"You seem to think there is a fatality in the water, Leone," he said,
quietly.
"I have an idea that I cannot express, but it seems to me that story is
told in the falling water."
"If the water tells of a golden bright life, all happiness, with the
most devoted and loving of husbands, then it may tell you as much as it
likes. Let me put the ring on your finger, Leone."
She held out her hand--such a beautiful hand, with a soft, pink palm and
tapering fingers. As he went to place the ring on her finger, it fell
from his hand into the water below, and Leone uttered a low cry.
"It is not lost," he said; "it has not fallen into the stream, it is
here."
Looking down, she saw the flash of the diamonds in the little pool that
lay between two stones, Lord Chandos wiped it and dried it.
"You will prize it all the more because it has been dipped in your
favorite stream," he said. "Give me your hand again, Leone; we shall
have better fortune this time."
He placed the ring securely on her finger, then kissed the white hand.
"How angry you were with me the first time I kissed your hand," he said;
"and now I have all your heart. There will be neither broken vows nor a
broken ring for us, Leone, no matter what the water sings or says."
"I hope not," says the girl, brightly.
"I shall take possession of my lodgings at Oheton to-morrow," he said.
"I shall have to spend some little time there; but you must promise that
I shall see you every evening, Leone. Will you find your way to the
mill-wheel? When we are married, I shall try to buy the mill, the
stream, and the land all round it; it will be a sacred spot to me. In
three weeks, Leone, you will be my wife."
"Yes," she replied, "in three weeks."
The wind fell, the ripple of the green leaves ceased, the birds had sung
themselves to sleep, only the water ran laughingly on.
"Lance," cried the girl, suddenly, "do you know what the water says--can
you hear it?"
"No," he replied, with a laugh; "I have not such a vivid fancy as you.
What does it say?"
"Nothing but sorrow, nothing but sorrow," she chanted.
"I cannot hear that; if it says anything at all, it is nothing but love,
nothing but love."
And then, as the shades of night were coming on, he saw her safely home.
That same evening Lord Chandos and Sir Frank Euston talked long
together.
"Of course," said Sir Frank, "if you put me on my honor, I cannot speak,
but I beg of you to stop and think."
Lord Chandos laughed; his handsome face was flushed and eager.
"The man who hesitates is lost," he said. "All the thinking in the world
cannot alter matters, nor make me love my darling less."
"There is an old proverb I should like to recommend to you," said Sir
Frank Euston; "it is this--a young man married is a young man marred."
"I am quite as willing to be marred as to be married," said the young
lord, "and married I will be if all the powers on earth conspire against
me."
"I know how useless all arguments are," said his friend, "when a man
determines to be foolish; but do think for one moment of the terrible
disappointment to your parents."
"I do not see it; they have no right to be disappointed; my father
married to please himself, why should I not do the same?"
"You are outraging all the laws of your class," said Sir Frank. "However
beautiful a farmer's niece may be, we cannot suppose even a miracle
could fit her to take the place of the Countess of Lanswell."
A hot flush came over the young lord's face; a strange quiet came into
his voice.
"We will discuss what you like, Frank, but you must not touch the young
lady's name, we will leave that out of the question."
"You have asked me to be the witness of your marriage," said Sir Frank,
"and that entitles me to speak my mind. I do speak it, frankly,
honestly, plainly, as I should thank God for any friend to speak to a
brother of my own if he felt inclined to make a simpleton of himself."
"I call myself a sensible man to marry for love, not a simpleton," said
Lord Chandos grandly.
"My dear Lance," said his friend, "you make just this one mistake; you
are not a man at all, you are a boy."
He stopped suddenly, for the young lord looked at him with a defiant,
fierce face.
"You must not say that again, Frank, or we shall be friends no longer."
"I do not want to offend you, Lance; but you are really too young to
think of marriage. Your tastes are not formed yet; that which pleases
you now you will dislike in six or ten years' time. I assure you that if
you marry this farmer's niece now, in ten years' time you will repent it
in sackcloth and ashes. She is not fit, either by manner, education, or
anything else, to be your mother's daughter, and you know it; you know
that when the glamour of her beauty is over you will wonder at your own
madness and folly. Be warned in time."
"You may as well reason with a madman as a man in love," said the young
lordling, "and I am in love."
"And you are mad," said Sir Frank, quietly; "one day you will know how
mad."
Lord Chandos laughed.
"There is method in my madness. Come, Frank, we have been such friends I
would do anything you asked me."
"I should never ask you to do anything so foolish, Lance; I wish that I
had not given my word of honor to keep your secret; I am quite sure that
I ought to send word to the earl and countess at once; I cannot, as I
have promised not to do so, but I regret it."
"My dear Frank, nothing in the world would stop me; if anything were
done to prevent my marriage now, I would simply await another and more
favorable opportunity; my mind is made up. I love the girl with all my
heart, and she, no other, shall be my wife. If you refuse to act for me,
well and good; I shall find some one else."
"If you would but be reasonable, Lance," said his friend.
"I am not reasonable. When did you ever see reason and love go hand in
hand together?"
"They should do so always, and do, when the love is worth having."
"Now, Frank, I have listened patiently; I have heard all that you have
had to say; I have weighed every argument, and I remain unconvinced. You
have but to say whether you will do this to oblige me or not."
"If I do it, remember, it is under protest, Lance."
"Never mind what it is under, if you only promise."
"I promise, to save you from greater risk, but I do it against my will,
my reason, my good sense, my conscience, and everything else."
Lord Chandos laughed aloud.
"You will forget everything of that kind," he said, "when you see
Leone."
And the two friends parted, mutually dissatisfied.