WAS IT LOVE?
Was he in love? That this was a question very interesting to Hester
there can be no reason to conceal. She did not even conceal it from
herself, nor did she trifle with herself by pretending to suppose that
if he were in love it could be with any one else. There was no one else
who had ever appeared to attract him. To nobody had he so much as given
his passing attention. When he had neglected her at the Grange it had
been truly, as he said, for no higher reason than that he might hand
down the old ladies to supper or tea. No young one had ever been
suggested as having any attraction for him. Hester did her best to enter
calmly into this question. It is one which it is sometimes very
difficult for a young woman to decide upon. What is conspicuous and
apparent to others will often remain to her a question full of doubt and
uncertainty; and it is to be feared that when this is the case it is all
the more likely that her own sentiments will be capable of very little
question. This, however, was not exactly the case with Hester. Her mind
was very much interested, and indeed excited. She wanted to know what
Edward meant. From the first morning when he had met her, a child
wandering on the Common, his manner had been different to her from the
manner of other people, or from his own manner to others. His eyes had
lingered upon her with pleasure even when his look had been stealthy;
even when it had been but a glance in passing, they had said things to
her which no other eyes said. His interest in her had never failed. It
had not leaped like Harry's, after a good deal of indifference, into a
sudden outburst. The very charm and attraction of it had lain in the
restraint which Hester had often considered to be dishonest, and against
which she had chafed. She had known all through, even in those evenings
when he had neglected her, that he was always conscious what she was
doing, and knew without looking when any one went to talk to her, when
she left the room and when she came back. This had kept her own interest
in him unvarying. But Hester was not any more sure of her own sentiments
than of his. She remembered with some shame that Roland Ashton's
presence had made a great difference in the state of her mind as
regarded Edward. She had felt but little curiosity about him when that
stranger was at the Vernonry. All the foreground of her mind had been so
pleasantly occupied by that new figure which was in itself much more
attractive than Edward, that he had slid almost completely out of her
thoughts. And this fact, which was only quite apparent to her after
Roland was gone, had greatly discomfited Hester, and given her a very
small opinion of herself. Was it possible that any new object that might
appear would have the same effect upon her? The effect had passed away
and Edward had come slowly back to his original position as the person
who in all Redborough interested her most. But the incident had been of
a very disturbing character, and had altogether confused her ideas.
Therefore the question was one of a very special interest. To know
exactly how he regarded her would much help her in deciding the other
question, not less important, which was, how she regarded him?
Everything thus depended, Hester felt, on Edward's sentiments. If it
should turn out that he loved her--strange thought which made her heart
beat!--it could not be but that in great and tender gratitude for such a
gift she should love him. She did feel offended by his efforts to
disguise his feelings, or even to get the better of them--never at least
when she was cool and in command of her judgment; but there could be no
doubt that she was very curious and anxious to know.
Was he in love? The appearances which had made the lookers-on say so
were not altogether to be attributed to this, Hester knew. His paleness,
his excitement, his absence of mind, had all been from another cause.
The discovery had startled her much, and given her an uneasy sense that
she might at other times have referred to some cause connected with
herself manifestations of feeling which had nothing to do with her,
which belonged to an entirely different order of sentiments--a thought
which made her blush red with shame, since there is nothing that hurts a
girl's pride so much as the suggestion, that she has been vain, and
imagined, like the foolish women, a man to love her who perhaps has
never thought of her at all. But the question altogether was one which
was too profound for Hester. She could not tell what to make of it.
Among the heads of the young party at the Merridews, she was aware that
no doubt was entertained on the matter. Edward was allotted to her by a
sort of unspoken right, and in Ellen's jibes and Harry's gloom she read
alike the same distinct understanding. Ellen in her chatter,
notwithstanding the warning to her cousin at the beginning, accepted it
entirely as a matter of course: and in a hundred things that Edward had
said as well as in his looks, which were still more eloquent, there had
been strong confirmation of the general belief. But yet--Hester could
not make up her mind that it was beyond doubt. She watched him, not with
anxiety so much as with a great curiosity. If it was not so, would she
be deeply disappointed? she asked herself without being able even to
answer that question. And as to her own sentiments, they were quite as
perplexing. She was half ashamed to feel that they depended upon his.
Was this a confession of feminine inferiority? she sometimes wondered
with a hot blush--the position here being very perplexing indeed and
profoundly difficult to elucidate; for it neither consisted with the
girl's dignity to give her love unsought, nor thus to wait as if ready
to deliver up her affections to the first bidder.
Such a matter of thought, involving the greatest interests of life, is
curiously mixed up with its most frivolous events. They met in the midst
of the dancing with a constant crash and accompaniment of dance-music,
amid chatterings and laughter, and all the inane nothings of a
ball-room, and yet in the midst of this were to consider and decide the
most important question of their lives. It was only thus, except by
concerted meetings which would have solved the question, that they could
meet at all, and the grotesque incongruity of such surroundings with the
matter in the foreground, sometimes affected Hester with a sort of moral
sickness and disgust. The scene seemed to throw a certain unworthiness,
levity, unelevated aspect upon the question altogether--as if this thing
which was to affect two lives was no more than an engagement for a
dance.
And though it is a strange thing to say, it is doubtful whether Edward
was much more decided in his sentiments than Hester was. In such a case
the man at least generally knows more or less what he wants; but partly
because Edward's mind was in a high state of excitement on other
subjects, he too was for a moment entirely uncertain as to what his
wishes were. He knew with sufficient distinctness that he could not
tolerate the idea of her appropriation by any one else, and it was his
full intention that some time or other Hester should be his, and no one
else's, which gave a foundation of certainty to his thoughts which was
wanting to hers. But further than this, he too was in a chaos somewhat
similar to that of Hester. Sometimes there was in his mind the strongest
impulse to tell her that he loved her, and to settle the matter by an
engagement, which must, however, he felt, be a secret one, giving
satisfaction to themselves but no one else. And here it may be remarked
that whereas Hester was apt to be seized by sudden fits of shame at the
idea that perhaps, after all her thoughts on the subject, he was not
thinking of her at all, Edward on the other hand felt no such alarm, and
never thought it even presumptuous on his part to assume the certainty
of her love for him, which, as the reader knows, was a certainty to
which she had not herself attained. He believed with simplicity that
when, if ever (nay, certainly it was to happen some time), he declared
himself, Hester would respond at once. He acknowledged to himself that
it was possible that in pique, or impatience, or weariness, if he did
not keep a vigilant watch over the situation, it might happen that
Hester would accept some one else. Her mother might drive her to it, or
the impossibility of going on longer might drive her to it; but he had
so much confidence in the simplicity of her nature that he did not
believe that the complications which held him in on every side could
affect her, and was sure that in her heart the question was solved in
the most primitive way.
This was and generally is the great difference between the man and woman
in such a controversy; until he had spoken, it was a shame to her that
she should ask herself did he intend to speak; but Edward felt no shame
if ever the idea crossed his mind that he might be mistaken in supposing
she loved him; such a discovery would have made him furious. He would
have aimed all sorts of ill names, such as coquette and jilt, at her;
but he had no fear of any such mistake. He felt sure that he had her in
his power, and when he did declare himself would be received with
enthusiasm; and he always meant to declare himself some time, to reward
her long suspense, and to make her the happiest of women. In words, this
part is generally allotted to the lady, as it was in the days of
chivalry. But the nineteenth century has modified many things, and if
ever (out of America) it was really the woman who occupied the more
commanding position, it is no longer so in the apprehension of the
world. Only in this particular case, as has been seen, Edward was wrong.
It is possible enough that in the curious position of affairs between
them she would have followed his lead whatever it might be; but even
this was by no means certain, and as a matter of fact, though her
curiosity about him drew her mind after him, she had not even gone so
far as he had, nor come to any ultimate certainty on the case at all.
Emma Ashton, who by means of propinquity--that quick knitter of
bonds--had become Hester's frequent companion, had very different ideas
on a similar subject. There was no sort of indefiniteness in her views.
She was perfectly clear as to what she was likely to do in a given case,
and the case in question occupied probably almost as great a share in
her thoughts as the different yet similar question which agitated the
mind of Hester. It was indeed to outward view, though with so many and
subtle differences, a very similar question. Emma's wonder was whether
Reginald Merridew would "speak" before she went away. She had no doubt
that all the requisite sentiments were existing, and she had satisfied
herself that when he did "speak" there was no reason why she should not
reply favourably. The family was "quite respectable," it might almost be
said also that it was "quite well off," but that there were rumours that
Algernon was to be "made an eldest son of," which were somewhat
disquieting. The suggestion was one which made Emma indignant,
notwithstanding the gratitude she owed Algernon and his wife for giving
her "her chance" in Redborough.
"When there is an estate I suppose it is all right," Emma said; "anyhow
it can't be helped when that's the case; and there must be an eldest
son. But when your property is in money it does seem such a mistake to
make a difference between your children. Don't you think so? Oh, but I
do; they are just one as good as another, and why should one be rich and
another poor? If old Mr. Merridew does anything of this sort I am sure I
shall always think it is very unfair."
"I suppose Mr. Merridew has a right to do what he pleases?" said Hester;
"and as it does not matter to us----"
"You speak a great deal too fast," said Emma, offended. "Say it doesn't
matter to you: but it may to me a great deal, and therefore I take a
great interest in it. Do you think parents have a right to do what they
please? If they make us come into the world, whether we wish it or not,
of course they are bound to do their best for us. I am the youngest
myself, and I hope I know my place; but then there was no money at all
among us. Papa spent it all himself; so certainly we had share and share
alike, for there was nothing. When that's the case nobody can have a
word to say. But the Merridews have a good deal, and every one ought to
have his just share. Not but what I like Algernon Merridew very much. He
is always very agreeable, and I think it very nice both of Ellen and him
that they should have been so kind to me and given me my chance, though
you say we're no relations. I am sure I always thought we were
relations, for my part."
"Did you think Reginald was your relation too?"
"Well, not perhaps quite so far as that--a connection I should have
said; but it does not matter very much now," Emma said, with a little
simper of satisfaction. "What a good thing Roland found out about
grandpapa and grandmamma, Hester--and how fortunate that they should
have asked _me_! If everything goes right I shall feel that I owe the
happiness of my life to it. When a girl goes out upon a visit, she never
knows what may happen before she gets home--or even she may never need
to go home at all. I don't know if I shall, I am sure. To talk about
anything taking place from Roland's house would be absurd. Why, we don't
even know the clergyman! and nobody cares a bit about us. If there was
any meaning in home it should be from Elinor's, you know--for everybody
knows us there."
"What do you mean about 'anything taking place'?--and from--from what?"
Hester asked, who never paid too much attention to Emma's monologues,
and had altogether lost the thread of her discoursings now.
"Oh," cried Emma, clasping Hester's arm close, "how you do make one
blush! Of course you know very well what I mean. If he speaks before I
go away--and I am sure I hope he will, for it would be such a nuisance
to have him following me up to Kilburn!--I don't suppose there would be
any occasion for waiting long. Why should people wait when they are well
off enough, and nothing to be gained by it? When the man has not got
settled in a proper situation, or when there is not enough to live upon,
then of course they must put it off; but in such a case as ours--I mean
this, you know--it might as well be here as anywhere," Emma said,
reflectively. "Cousin Catherine has always been very kind to me. Rather
than let grandpapa and grandmamma be disturbed at their age, I shouldn't
wonder if she would give the breakfast--especially considering the
double connection, and that it is such a very good thing to get me
settled. You needn't laugh, Hester. It is not a thing to laugh at.
Unless I had settled, what should I have done? You are an only daughter,
you don't know what it is to be the youngest and have no proper home."
These words mollified Hester, who had been in lofty opposition, half
disgusted, half indignant. She was brought down by this appeal to her
sympathy. "But you are happy with your brother?" she said.
"Oh, yes--happy enough; Roland is very kind. And though it's a small
house, it is tolerably nice, and two maids with nothing particular to
do. But it is very dull, you know, and I don't know many people. And you
must always take into consideration that at any moment Roland might
marry, and then where should I be? Why, he admires you very much. He
might just as likely as not, next time he comes, make you an offer; and
then where should I be?"
"You think, I suppose," said Hester, loftily, "that when a man makes an
offer, as you say, that is all about it; there is no opposition to be
looked for on the girl's side?"
"Well, you know," said Emma, "I call you one of the high-flown ones.
There are always some like that. But in an ordinary way what do girls
want but their chance? And when they've got it, what folly to refuse--at
least in my position, Hester. If I don't get settled, what have I to
look forward to? Roland will marry sooner or later. He's an awful flirt,
and though he admires you very much, I shouldn't advise you to have
anything to do with him unless you just marry him out and out. I should
think he'd make a good husband. But don't be engaged to him, Hester;
mind my words. Be married in three weeks, or have nothing to say to
him--that is my advice. Oh, you need not be huffy. I am sure I don't
want you or any one to marry him, at least till I am settled. But if I
don't settle now, he is sure, of course, to marry some time; and then
where shall I be? This is what makes me wish that if--_he_, you know, is
going to speak, he would do it, and not shilly-shally. It is astonishing
how men shilly-shally. I think they take a pleasure in it. They would
know better if they had to wait as we have, and wonder, and feel that we
can't make any arrangements or settle anything till we know what's
coming. If I have to go away and he never says anything, I don't know
what I shall do."
"Is this because you--care so much for Reginald Merridew?" Hester could
not so form her lips as to say love.
Emma made a sort of reflective pause. "I like him well enough," she
said. "I am not one to go on about love and so forth. Besides, that sort
of thing is not becoming in a girl. You can't, till you are quite
certain what _they_ mean, don't you know? It is dreadful to go caring
for them, and all that, and then to find out that they don't care for
you. A girl has to wait till they speak."
Hester listened not with her usual mixture of amusement and indignation,
but with a curious feeling of shame and alarm growing in her. Was not
this what she herself was doing? Emma's desire that her supposed lover
should speak and settle the question, was it not much the same thing as
her own curiosity and self-questioning in respect to Edward? Emma was
always more practical. She was so in sentimental matters as well as in
everything else. Things that other people leave indistinct, in a half
light, she put clearly, without any pretences at obscurity. Her grieved
sense of the shilly-shallying of men, her consciousness of all the
inconveniences that arose from their way of putting off their
explanations, her prudential conviction that a girl should not commit
herself by "caring for" _them_, before they made it apparent that they
cared for her--were these not so many vulgar, straightforward statements
of the dilemma in which Hester too found herself? But this grotesque
resemblance of sentiment and situation made Hester, as may be supposed,
passionately angry and indignant, not with Emma, who was guiltless, and
who pursued the subject endlessly, never tiring of it, nor of going over
the matter again and again from the beginning as they walked, but with
herself and Edward, and fate, which had placed her in such
circumstances. It was something like a caricature of herself that was
thus presented to her, and she could scarcely help laughing at it, even
while she resented it warmly as an insult offered to her by--whom? not
Emma--by circumstances and evil fortune, and the spite of a position
which was intolerable, and Catherine Vernon. All these persons were
conspiring against her, but none of them were so hard upon Hester as
this little purring deliberate Emma, holding up her little distorted
mirror that Hester in her pride might see how like was the image in it
to her own troubled face.