Or singst thou rather under force
Of some Divine command,
Commissioned to presage a course
Of happier days at hand?
COWPER.
Aurelia was coming down stairs in the twilight after singing her charges
to sleep about three weeks after her arrival, when she saw Jumbo waiting
at the bottom of the stairs.
She had long ceased to be afraid of him. Indeed he had quite amazed her
by his good-nature in helping to lift down naughty little Letitia, who
was clambering up to the window of his master’s chamber to look through
the crevices of the shutters. He had given the children a gaily dressed
rag doll, and was as delighted as they were when he played his fiddle to
them and set them dancing.
Still, the whites of his eyes, his shining teeth, and the gold lace of
his livery had a startling effect in the darkness, and Aurelia wished he
would move away; but he was evidently waiting for her, and when she
came near he addressed her thus, “Mis’r Belamour present compliment, and
would Miss Delavie be good enough to honour him with her company for a
short visit?”
The girl started, dismayed, alarmed, yet unwilling to be unkind to the
poor recluse, while she hoped that decorum and propriety would put the
visit out of the question. She replied that she would ask Mrs. Aylward
whether she might, and Jumbo followed her to the still-room, saying on
the way, “Mas’r heard Miss Delavie sing. He always has the window opened
to hear her. It makes him hum the air--be merry. He has not asked to
speak with lady since he heard the bad news--long, long, ago.”
Then Aurelia felt that nothing short of absolute impropriety ought to
make her gratify her shrinking reluctance. Mrs. Aylward seemed to think
her doubts uncalled for, and attributed her hesitation to fear of the
dark room.
“Oh, no I am not so childish,” said the young lady with nervous dignity;
“but would it be proper?”
“Bless me, madam, he is as old as your father, and as civil a gentleman
as lives. I would come in with you but that I am expecting Mr. Potts
with the tallies. You need have no scruples.”
There was no excuse nor escape, and Aurelia followed the negro in
trepidation. Crossing the hall, he opened for her the door of the lobby
corresponding to her own, and saying, “Allow me, ma’am,” passed before
her, and she heard another door unclosed, and a curtain withdrawn.
Beyond she only saw a gulf of darkness, but out of it came a deep manly
voice, subdued and melancholy, but gentlemanlike and deferential.
“The young lady is so kind as to come and cheer the old hermit. A
thousand thanks, madam. Permit me.”
Aurelia’s hand was taken by one soft for want of use, and she was led
forward on a deep piled carpet, and carefully placed on a chair in the
midst of the intense black darkness. There was a little movement and
then the voice said, “I am most sensible of your goodness, madam.”
“I--I am glad. You are very good, sir,” murmured Aurelia, oppressed by
the gloom and the peculiar atmosphere, cool--for the windows were open
behind the shutters--but strangely fragrant.
“How does my excellent friend, Major Delavie?”
“I thank you, sir, he is well, though his wound troubles him from time
to time.”
“Commend me to him when you write, if you are good enough to remember
it.”
“I thank you, sir. He will be rejoiced to hear of you.”
“He does me too much honour.”
These conventionalities being exhausted, a formidable pause ensued,
first broken by Mr. Belamour, “May I ask how my fair visitor likes
Bowstead?”
“It is a fine place, sir.”
“But somewhat lonely for so youthful a lady?”
“I have the children, sir.”
“I often hear their cheerful voices.”
“I hope we do not disturb you, sir, I strive to restrain them, but I
fear we are all thoughtless.”
“Nay, the innocent sounds of mirth ring sweetly on my ears, like the
notes of birds. And when I have heard a charming voice singing to the
little ones, I have listened with delight. Would it be too presumptuous
to beg the air songstress to repeat her song for the old recluse?”
“O, sir, I have only nursery ditties, caught from our old German maid,”
cried Aurelia, in dismay.
“That might not diminish the charm to me,” he said. “In especial there
was one song whose notes Jumbo caught as you accompanied yourself on the
spinnet.”
And Jumbo, who seemed able to see in the dark, played a bar on his
violin, while Aurelia trembled with shyness.
“The Nightingale Song,” she said. “My dear mother learnt the tune
abroad. And I believe that she herself made the English words, when she
was asked what the nightingales say.”
“May I hear it? Nightingales can sing in the dark.” Refusal was
impossible, and Jumbo’s violin was a far more effective accompaniment
than her own very moderate performance on the spinnet; so in a sweet,
soft, pure, untrained and trembling voice, she sang--
“O Life and Light are sweet, my dear, O life and Light are sweet;
But sweeter still the hope and cheer
When Love and Life shall meet.
Oh! then it is most sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet.
“But Love puts on the yoke, my dear, But Love puts on the yoke;
The dart of Love calls forth the tear,
As though the heart were broke.
The very heart were broke, broke, broke, broke, broke, broke.
“And Love can quench Life’s Light, my dear, Drear, dark, and melancholy;
Seek Light and Life and jocund cheer,
And mirth and pleasing folly.
Be thine, light-hearted folly, folly, folly, folly, folly, folly.
“‘Nay, nay,’ she sang. ‘yoke, pain, and tear,
For Love I gladly greet;
Light, Life, and Mirth are nothing here,
Without Love’s bitter sweet.
Give me Love’s bitter sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet.’”
“Accept my fervent thanks, kind songstress. So that is the nightingale’s
song, and your honoured mother’s?”
“Yes, sir. My father often makes us sing it because it reminds him of
her.”
“Philomel could not have found a better interpreter,” said the grave
voice, sounding so sad that Aurelia wished she could have sung something
less affecting to his spirits.
“I gather from what you said that you are no longer blessed with the
presence of the excellent lady, your mother,” presently added Mr.
Belamour.
“No, sir. We lost her seven years ago.”
“And her husband mourns her still. Well he may. She was a rare creature.
So she is gone! I have been so long in seclusion that no doubt time has
made no small havoc, and my friends have had many griefs to bewail.”
Aurelia knew not what answer to make, and was relieved when he collected
himself and said:--
“I will trespass no longer on my fair visitor’s complaisance, but if she
have not found the gloom of this apartment insupportable, it would be a
charitable action to brighten it once more with her presence.”
“O sir, I will come whenever you are pleased to send for me,” she
exclaimed, all her doubts, fears, and scruples vanishing at his tone of
entreaty. “My father would be so glad. I will practise my best song to
sing to you to-morrow.”
“My best thanks are yours,” and her hand was taken, she was carefully
conducted to the door and dismissed with a gentle pressure of her
fingers, and a courteous: “Goodnight, madam; _Au revoir_, if I may
venture to say so.”
By contrast, the hall looked almost light, and Aurelia could see the
skip of joy with which Jumbo hurried to fetch a candle. As he gave it to
her, he made his teeth flash from ear to ear, as he exclaimed: “Pretty
missy bring new life to mas’r!”
Thus did a new element come into Aurelia’s life. She carefully prepared
Harriet’s favourite song, a French _romance_, but Mr. Belamour did not
like it equally well with the Nightingale, which he made her repeat,
rewarding her by telling her of the charming looks and manners of her
mother, so that she positively enjoyed her visit. The next night he made
inquiries into her walks at Bowstead, asking after the favourite nooks
of his childhood, and directing her to the glades where grew the largest
dewberries and sweetest blackberries. This led to her recital of a
portion of _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, for he drew her on with thanks at
every pause: “I have enjoyed no such treat for many years,” he said.
“There are other pieces that I can recite another time,” said Aurelia
timidly.
“You will confer a great favour on me,” he answered.
So she refreshed her memory by a mental review of _Paradise Lost_ over
her embroidery frame, and was ready with Adam’s morning hymn, which was
much relished. Compliments on her elocution soon were turned by her into
the praise of “sister,” and as she became more at ease, the strange man
in the dark listened with evident delight to her pretty fresh prattle
about sister and brother, and father and home. Thus it had become a
daily custom that she should spend the time between half past seven and
nine in the company of the prisoner of darkness, and she was beginning
to look forward to it as the event of the day. She scarcely expected
to be sent for on Sunday evening, but Jumbo came as usual with the
invitation, and she was far from sorry to quit a worm-eaten Baxter’s
_Saints’ Rest_ which she had dutifully borrowed from Mrs. Aylward.
“Well, my fair visitor,” said the voice which had acquired a tone of
pleased anticipation, “what mental repast has your goodness provided?”
“It is Sunday, sir.”
“Ah!” as if it had not occurred to him, and with some disappointment.
“I could say the Psalms by heart, sir, if you would like it, for it is
the 20th day of the month.”
“Thank you. Your voice can make anything sweet.”
Aurelia was shocked, and knew that Betty would be more so, but she was
too shy to do anything except to begin: “Praise thou the Lord, O my
soul.”
It was a fortunate thing that it was a Psalm of such evident beauty, for
it fell less familiarly on his ear than her passages from the poets. At
the end he said: “Yes, that is true poetry. Praise fits well with happy
young lips. You have been to church?”
“No, sir, Mr. Greaves does not come to-day.”
“Then how did the gentle saint perform her orisons?”
“Please do not so call me, sir! I tried to read the service, but I could
not get the children to be still, so I had to tell them about Joseph,
and I found a beautiful Bible full of pictures, like our Dutch one at
home.”
“You found the old Bible? My mother used to show it to my brother and
me--my poor mother!”
He mentioned one or two of the engravings, which he had never forgotten,
but the evening was less of a success than usual, and Aurelia doubted
whether we would wish for her that day se’nnight. All her dread of him
was gone; she knew she had brought a ray of brightness into his solitary
broken life, and her mind was much occupied with the means of affording
him pleasure. Indeed she might have wearied of the lack of all
companionship save that of the young children; and converse with a
clever highly cultivated mind was stimulating and expanding all her
faculties. When the stores or her memory were becoming exhausted, Jumbo
was bidden to open a case of books which had lain untouched since they
were sent sown from Mr. Belamour’s chambers at the Temple, and they were
placed at her disposal. Here was Mr. Alexander Pope’s translation of the
_Iliad_ of Homer, which had appeared shortly before the fatal duel,
and Aurelia eagerly learnt whole pages of it by heart for the evening’s
amusement, enjoying extremely the elucidations and criticisms of her
auditor, who would dwell on a passage all day, beg to have it repeated
a second time in the evening, and then tell her what his memory or
his reflection had suggested about it. Moreover, having heard some
inexplicable report, through Jumbo, of the Porteous mob, Mr. Belamour
became curious to learn the truth, and this led to his causing the
newspapers to be sent weekly to be read and reported to him by Aurelia.
It seemed incredible that a man of much ability should have been content
to spend all these years in the negro’s sole society, but no doubt the
injury done to the brain had been aggravated by grief and remorse, so
that he had long lain, with suspended faculties, in a species of living
death; whence he had only gradually, and as it were unconsciously,
advanced to his present condition. Perhaps Mr. Wayland’s endeavours to
rouse him had come too soon, or in a less simple and attractive
form, for they had been reluctantly received and had proved entirely
unsuccessful; while the child-like efforts of the girl, following his
lead instead of leading him, were certainly awakening him, and renewing
his spirits and interest in the world at large in an unlooked-for
manner.