I never thought a life could be
So flung upon one hope, as mine, dear love, on thee.
N. P. WILLIS.
No sooner did old Mr. Majoribanks learn from the rector that he had
prevailed upon Mr. Temple to fix his residence amongst them, than he was
anxious to pay the stranger every possible attention and civility,
calling upon him to invite him to dinner, or do anything that might
contribute in any way to his comfort and happiness. But Mr. Wynne was
obliged to subdue this impulse of hospitality, making the good old
gentleman and his family to understand that Mr. Temple being driven, by
some heavy private affliction, to the alleviation of his sorrows by
solitude and seclusion, the kindest thing would be, for the present,
till the poignancy of his feelings should be softened by time, to
refrain as much as possible from crossing his wishes in this respect.
The inmates of Glan Pennant, in the most delicate manner, respected and
carried out these instructions; so that, by some gentle and gradual
attraction, rather than by any outward effort on their part, did the
recluse seem finally drawn towards them in more close and intimate
communication; till finally, he became not only, as at first--the silent
and secret minister to all those little schemes of charity and
benevolence the young ladies had so much at heart--but also their
personal assistant and supporter.
Often during the time they were thus thrown intimately together, did Mr.
Wynne, like others perhaps besides, think it could not be but that the
lovely Selina Seaham, the flower of Glan Pennant, as the good clergyman
was wont to call her, would charm away the sorrows of that noble heart;
and as for the impression Edward Temple might make on that young lady,
he thought it was a case decided. However it might have been on that
latter point, we have seen that our hero's heart escaped the predicted
spell--although in other ways he might esteem and admire the fair
lady--and how another charm had secretly enthralled him.
* * * * *
It had been in no slight degree startling to Eustace Trevor to discover
the relationship existing between the Seahams and his friend de Burgh;
and at first it had nearly determined him to leave the place, lest in
any way this fact should tend to his betrayal. But Mr. Wynne soon made
it his business to ascertain for his satisfaction that no such chance
existed.
Glan Pennant was not visited by any of the young ladies' relations, and
never had been for many years. Even the wedding of the last married
sister had been unattended by any of them, and indeed it was very rare
that regular visitors of any sort came to the place. Sir Hugh Morgan
occasionally had a friend or two in a bachelor way, whose society was
not much in his line, or likely to consist of any of Eustace's former
acquaintance, being generally natives of his own country.
So far Eustace Trevor's mind was set at rest, though still the fact of
the relationship haunted his fancy as a strange striking coincidence.
Little did he divine all that this coincidence was destined farther to
comprise. Little did he conceive when in his solitary rambles after his
settlement at Ll---- he sometimes chanced to meet that young and gentle
girl, who had so attracted his interest and attention that first Sunday
in the gallery of the church; sometimes tracking with fond alacrity the
footsteps of her brother to some lake or mountain stream--or seated in
some shady dell, or on some heathy hill, with her sweet smile and dreamy
eyes bent upon her book--or plunged in pensive reverie--little did he
divine what dream, or rather the mere shadow of a dream, his appearance
might chance to dissipate.
It may appear unnatural, that during those few years of acquaintance
with one so worthy to win the love and admiration of a mind like Mary
Seaham's--under circumstances too, which, considering the nature of her
disposition, might have seemed peculiarly favourable to produce that
end--no corresponding sentiments had been awakened in her breast towards
Eustace Trevor.
Indeed, we scarcely think it likely this could have proved the case, had
the feelings she inspired in his breast been earlier made apparent; but
it must be remembered that Mary was very young when Eustace Trevor first
came to Ll----, that he arrived too, arrayed in attributes exactly
suited to banish from a mind like hers any ideas connected with that of
love.
The mighty sorrow of which Mr. Wynne had spoken, and which sat so
plainly written on his beautiful countenance--every superior excellence
of mind and character, more intimate acquaintance only served to
heighten--had conspired to render him, in the estimation of the young
girl's child-like, but high-toned mind, as one of that order of beings
towards whom reverence and admiration were the only feelings to which,
without presumption, one like her could ever dare to aspire.
There was, besides, a distant melancholy reserve in his manner, she
imagined, more apparent in his bearing towards herself than to her
sisters, which still more effectually contributed to produce this
effect; while her sisters, on their part, although equally enthusiastic
in their admiration of their new friend, were much more inclined to look
upon him in the light of a common mortal like themselves--one indeed for
whom it would have been no such great stretch of presumption to
entertain feelings of a less exalted character; though the careless
youth of the one put all such considerations out of the question, and
the good sense of the other stifled any rising inclination of her heart
to bestow its affections--when it became too soon plainly evident how
little chance existed of winning a corresponding return--from him who,
two years after his arrival, calmly assisted in the ceremony which
united her to the young officer, who had proved himself less
invulnerable to the powers of attraction she possessed. Yet far was
Eustace Trevor from being naturally prone to coldness and insensibility
on a point like this; he was one
"To gaze on woman's beauty as a star,
Whose purity and distance make it fair."
And fair indeed did it seem to him, when on his night of darkness it
shone forth with so bright and clear a light as in the daughters of Glan
Pennant. But that light to him must be indeed far distant, for the
morbid sensibility with which he contemplated the dark features of his
past history, cast its blasting influence even over this purest and most
natural point of his heart's ambition; and mournfully he would silence
any allusions his friend would venture to make upon the subject.
His was not a fate he could solicit any being, blessing and blessed like
those fair girls, to share; and sadly would he seek to quench the
feeling which, day by day, year by year--as the gentle excellence, the
sweet attractions of Mary Seaham were more and more developed--gathered
strength within his heart.
This it was which made her deem his manner cold and distant, in
comparison with that he evinced towards her sisters. Little did she
imagine how the spirit of that noble-minded man bowed down before her
mild, unconscious might; how, if he turned away coldly from her soft
words and timid glance, it was because he feared their power might draw
forth a manifestation of that he had vowed to himself to conceal--
"I might not dim thy fortune bright,
With love so sad as mine."
No--we see he kept his secret but too well--so well, that not only the
object herself, but even his anxious and much-interested friend Mr.
Wynne, never suspected a truth which would have given him such
unfeigned delight.
A year before the period at which our story opens, and soon after
performing, to his no great satisfaction, the marriage ceremony for his
lovely young friend Selina Seaham, the worthy man had left Ll----;
yielding at length to the persuasions of his friends that he would,
according to the advice of the medical men, try the effect of a year or
two's sojourn on the continent in alleviating his troublesome and
obstinate, if not mortal, complaint.
An efficient substitute had been found to fill his place. Eustace Trevor
also remained, as we have seen, continuing to render those services
which, year by year, had only been the more valuable and
distinguished--services never to be erased from the memories of that
little flock, with whom, during his ministry amongst them, he had
rendered himself equally honoured and beloved. But the following year,
as we have seen, brought events of no small importance to the fates and
fortunes of the principal personages of our history.
The determination of the Majoribanks to leave Glan Pennant, the marriage
of Agnes Seaham, the peculiar nature of Mary's circumstances; and how,
consequent on those events, finally influenced by the last
consideration, Eustace Trevor in that momentous interview on the heathy
hill's side--casting his future hopes of happiness on one die--gave way
to the long-checked, long-concealed impulses of his heart, and poured
forth his tale of love upon her startled ear. Need we recapitulate the
sequel, "How pale the startled lady stood" on the borders of that green
and silent hill.
It was too late to open before her eyes the treasure which had so long
been within her reach. He had failed to touch that chord, by which alone
the heart of woman can be moved--Mary's heart so pure, so good, was yet
a woman's. What, that for months and years devotedly he had lingered by
her side, loving her in secret with a love so fervent and so deep, she
had remained insensible to that hidden spell; whilst one glance from the
stranger's dark eyes--one low thrilling tone of his flattering voice had
sufficed to pluck away her heart. But so it was, and so it oft-times is;
and there is little need to tell again how Eustace Trevor, his last reed
broken, his last ray of light extinguished, turned away to seek his sad
and silent home--
"The shadow of a starless night,"
thrown upon that world, in which henceforth he must move so desolate and
alone.