THE GENERAL AND HIS WARD.
IT is surprising what a change twenty years of a tropical sun can make
in the human constitution. The captain went forth a good-looking,
good-tempered man, destitute neither of kind feelings nor masculine
beauty: the general returned bloated, bilious, irascible, entirely
selfish, and decidedly ill-favoured. Such affections as he ever had
seemed to have been left behind in India--that new world, around which
now all his associations and remembrances revolved; and the reserve
(clearly rëproduced in Charles), the habit of silence whereof we took
due notice in the spring-tide of his life, had now grown, perhaps from
some oppressive secret, into a settled, moody, continuous taciturnity,
which made his curious wife more vexed at him than ever; for,
notwithstanding all the news he must have had to tell her, the company
of John George Julian Tracy proved to his long-expectant Jane any thing
but cheering or instructive. His past life, and present feelings, to say
nothing of his future prospects, might all be but a blank, for any thing
the general seemed to care: brandy and tobacco, an easy chair, and an
ordnance map of India, with Emily beside him to talk about old times,
these were all for which he lived: and even the female curiosity of a
wife, duly authorized to ask questions, could extract from him
astonishingly little of his Indian experiences. As to his wealth,
indeed, Mrs. Tracy boldly made direct inquiry; for Julian set her on to
beg for a commission, and Charles also was anxious for a year or two at
college; but the general divulged not much: albeit he vouchsafed to both
his sons a liberally increased allowance. It was only when his wife,
piqued at such reserve, pettishly remarked,
"At any rate, sir, I may be permitted to hope, that Miss Warren's
friends are kind enough to pay her expenses;"
That the veteran, in high dudgeon at any imputation on his Indian
acquaintances, sternly answered,
"You need not be apprehensive, madam; Emily Warren is amply provided
for." Words which sank deep into the prudent mother's mind.
But we must not too long let dock-leaves hide a violet; it is high time,
and barely courteous now, to introduce that beautiful exotic, Emily
Warren. Her own history, as she will tell it to Charles hereafter, was
so obscure, that she knew little of it certainly herself, and could
barely gather probabilities from scattered fragments. At present, we
have only to survey results in a superficial manner: in their due
season, we will dig up all the roots.
No heroine can probably engage our interest or sympathy who possesses
the infirmity of ugliness: it is not in human nature to admire her, and
human nature is a thing very much to be consulted. Moreover, no one ever
yet saw an amiable personage, who was not so far pleasing, or, in other
parlance, so far pretty. I cannot help the common course of things; and
however hackneyed be the thought, however common-place the phrase, it is
true, nevertheless, that beauty, singular beauty, would be the first
idea of any rational creature, who caught but a glimpse of Emily Warren;
and I should account it little wonder if, upon a calmer gaze, that
beauty were found to have its deepest, clearest fountain in those large
dark eyes of heir's.
Aware as I may be, that "large dark eyes" are no novelty in tales like
this; and famous for rare originality as my pen (not to say genius)
would become, if an attempt were herein made to interest the world in a
pink-eyed heroine, still I prefer plodding on in the well-worn path of
pleasant beauty; and so long as Nature's bounty continues to supply so
well the world we live in with large dark eyes, and other feminine
perfections, our Emily, at any rate, remains in fashion; and if she has
many pretty peers, let us at least not peevishly complain of them. A
graceful shape is, luckily, almost the common prerogative of female
youthfulness; a dimpled smile, a cheerful, winning manner, regular
features, and a mass of luxuriant brown hair--these all heroines
have--and so has our's.
But no heroine ever had yet Emily Warren's eyes; not identically only,
which few can well deny; but similarly also, which the many must be good
enough to grant: and very few heroes, indeed, ever saw their equal;
though, if any hereabouts object, I will not be so cruel or unreasonable
as to hope they will admit it. At first, full of soft light, gentle and
alluring, they brighten up to blaze upon you lustrously, and fascinate
the gazer's dazzled glance: there are depths in them that tell of the
unfathomable soul, heights in them that speak of the spirit's
aspirations. It is gentleness and purity, no less than sensibility and
passion, that look forth in such strange power from those windows of the
mind: it is not the mere beautiful machine, fair form, and pleasing
colours, but the heaven-born light of tenderness and truth, streaming
through the lens, that takes the fond heart captive. Charles, for one,
could not help looking long and keenly into Emily Warren's eyes; they
magnetized him, so that he might not turn away from them: entranced him,
that he would not break their charm, had he been able: and then the long
tufted eyelashes droop so softly over those blazing suns--that I do not
in the least wonder at Charles's impolite, perhaps, but still natural
involuntary stare, and his mute abstracted admiration: the poor youth is
caught at once, a most willing captive--the moth has burnt its wings,
and flutters still happily around that pleasant warming radiance. How
his heart yearned for something to love, some being worthy of his own
most pure affections: and lo! these beauteous eyes, true witnesses of
this sweet mind, have filled him for ever and a day with love at first
sight.
But gentle Charles was not the only conquest: the fiery Julian, too,
acknowledged her supremacy, bowed his stubborn neck, and yoked himself
at once, another and more rugged captive, to the chariot of her charms.
It was Caliban, as well as Ferdinand, courting fair Miranda. In his
lower grade, he loved--fiercely, coarsely: and the same passion, which
filled his brother's heart with happiest aspirations, and pure unselfish
tenderness towards the beauteous stranger, burnt him up as an inward and
consuming fire: Charles sunned himself in heaven's genial beams, while
Julian was hot with the lava-current of his own bad heart's volcano.
It will save much trouble, and do away with no little useless mystery,
to declare, at the outset, which of these opposite twin-brothers our
dark-eyed Emily preferred. She was only seventeen in years; but an
Indian sky had ripened her to full maturity, both of form and feelings:
and having never had any one whom she cared to think upon, and let her
heart delight in, till Charles looked first upon her beauty wonderingly,
it is no marvel if she unconsciously reciprocated his young heart's
thought--before ever he had breathed it to himself. Julian's admiration
she entirely overlooked; she never thought him more than civil--barely
that, perhaps--however he might flatter himself: but her heart and eyes
were full of his fair contrast, the light seen brighter against
darkness; Charles all the dearer for a Julian. Intensely did she love
him, as only tropic blood can love; intently did she gaze on him, when
any while he could not see her face, as only those dark eyes could gaze:
and her mind, all too ignorant but greedy of instruction, no less than
her heart, rich in sympathies and covetous of love, went forth, and fed
deliciously on the intellectual brow, and delicate flushing cheek of her
noble-minded Charles. Not all in a day, nor a week, nor a month, did
their loves thus ripen together. Emily was a simple child of nature, who
had every thing to learn; she scarcely knew her Maker's name, till
Charles instructed her in God's great love: the stars were to her only
shining studs of gold, and the world one mighty plain, and men and women
soulless creatures of a day, and the wisdom of creation unconsidered,
and the book of natural knowledge close sealed up, till Charles set out
before his eager student the mysteries of earth and heaven. Oh, those
blessed hours of sweet teaching! when he led her quick delighted steps
up the many avenues of science to the central throne of God! Oh, those
happy moments, never to return, when her eyes in gentle thankfulness for
some new truth laid open to them, flashed upon her youthful Mentor, love
and intelligence, and pleased admiring wonder! Sweet spring-tide of
their loves, who scarcely knew they loved, yet thought of nothing but
each other; who walked hand in hand, as brother and sister, in the
flowery ways of mutual blessing, mutual dependence: alas, alas! how
brief a space can love, that guest from heaven, dwell on earth
unsullied!