TRIALS.
THE general recovered; as slowly, indeed, as Emily had, but it is
gratifying to add, as surely. And now that loving couple might be seen,
weakly creeping out together, when the day was finest: tottering white
December leaning on a sickly fragile May. There were no concealments now
between them, no reservings, and heart-stricken Emily heard from her
repentant father's lips the story of her birth: she was, he said, his
own daughter by a native princess, the Begum Dowlia Burruckjutli.
A bitter--bitter truth was that: the destruction of all her hopes,
pleasures, and affections. It had now become to her a sin to love that
dearest one of all things lovely on this earth: duty, paramount and
stern, commanded her, without a shadow of reprieve, to execute on
herself immediately the terrible sentence of banishing her own
betrothed: nay, more, she must forget him, erase his precious image from
her heart, and never, never see that brother more. And Charles must feel
the same, and do the like; oh! sorrow, passing words! and their two
commingled souls must be violently wrenched apart; for such love in them
were crime.
Dear children of affection--it is a dreadful lesson this for both of
you; but most wise, most needful--or the hand that guideth all things,
never would have sent it. Know ye not for comfort, that ye are of those
to whom all things work together for good? Know ye not for counsel, that
the excess of love is an idolatry that must be blighted? It is well,
children, it is well, that ye should thus carry your wounded hearts for
balm to the altar of God; it is well that ye should bow in meekness to
His will, in readiness to His wisdom. Ye are learning the lesson
speedily, as docile children should; and be assured of high reward from
the Teacher who hath set it you. Poor Charles! white and wan, thy cheek
is grown transparent with anxiety, and thy blue eye dim with hope
deferred: poor Emmy, sick and weak, thou weariest Heaven with thy
prayers, and waterest thy couch with thy tears. Yet, a little while;
this discipline is good: storm and wind, frost and rushing rains, are as
needful to the forest-tree as sun and gentle shower; the root is
strengthening, and its fibres spreading out: and loving still each other
with the best of human love, ye justly now have found out how to anchor
all your strongest hopes, and deepest thoughts, on Him who made you for
himself. Who knoweth? wisely acquiescing in His will, humbly trusting to
His mercy, and bringing the holocaust of your inflamed affections as an
offering of duty to your God--who knoweth? Cannot He interpose? will He
not befriend you? For His arm is power, and His heart is love.
Days rolled on in dull monotony, and grew to weeks more slowly than
before; earthly hopes had been levelled with the dust; life had
forgotten to be joyous: there was, indeed, the calm, the peace, the
resignation, the heavenly ante-past, and the soul-entrancing prayer; but
human life to Emily was flat, wearisome, and void; she felt like a nun,
immolated as to this world: even as Charles, too, had resolved to be an
anchorite, a stern, hard, mortified man, who once had feelings and
affections. The rëaction in both those fond young hearts had even
overstept the golden mean: and Mercy interposed to make all right, and
to bless them in each other once again.
Only look at this _billet-doux_ from Charles, just come in, and dated
Plymouth:
"Huzzah--for Emily and England: huzzah for the land of freedom! no
secrets now--dear, dear old Jeanie Mackie has given me proofs positive:
all I have to wish is that she could move: but she is very ill; so, as
we touched here on the voyage up channel, I landed her and myself,
thinking to kiss, within a day, my darling Emmy. But I cannot get her
out of bed this morning, and dare not leave her: though an hour's delay
seems almost insupportable. If I possibly can manage it, I will bring
the dear old faithful creature, wrapped in blankets, by chaise
to-morrow. Tell my father all this: and say to him--he will understand,
perhaps, though you may not, my blessed girl--say to him, that 'he is
mistaken, and all are mistaken--you are not what they think you.' A
thousand kisses. Expect, then, on bright to-morrow to see your happy,
happy
"CHARLES."
"P.S. Hip! hip! hip!--huzzah!"
Dearest Emily had taken up the note with fears and trembling: she laid
it down, as they that reap in joy; and I never in my life saw any thing
so beautiful as her eyes at that glad minute; the smile through the
tear, the light through the gloom, the verdure of high summer springing
through the Alpine snows, the mild and lustrous moon emerging from a
baffled thunder-cloud.
And, although the general mournfully shook his head, distrustfully and
despondingly; though he only uttered, "Poor children--dear
children--would to Heaven that it could be so;"--and he, for one, was
evidently innoculated, as before, with all the old thoughts of gloom,
sadness, and anxiety;--still Emily hoped--for Charles hoped--and Jeanie
Mackie was so certain.