That evening Harley L'Estrange arrived at his father's house. The few
years that had passed since we saw him last had made no perceptible
change in his appearance. He still preserved his elastic youthfulness
of form, and singular variety and play of countenance. He seemed
unaffectedly rejoiced to greet his parents, and had something of the
gayety and tenderness of a boy returned from school. His manner to Helen
bespoke the chivalry that pervaded all the complexities and curves of his
character. It was affectionate, but respectful,--hers to him, subdued,
but innocently sweet and gently cordial. Harley was the chief talker.
The aspect of the times was so critical that he could not avoid questions
on politics; and, indeed, he showed an interest in them which he had
never evinced before. Lord Lansmere was delighted.
"Why, Harley, you love your country after all?"
"The moment she seems in danger, yes!" replied the Patrician; and the
Sybarite seemed to rise into the Athenian. Then he asked with eagerness
about his old friend Audley; and, his curiosity satisfied there, he
inquired the last literary news. He had heard much of a book lately
published. He named the one ascribed by Parson Dale to Professor Moss;
none of his listeners had read it.
Harley pished at this, and accused them all of indolence and stupidity,
in his own quaint, metaphorical style. Then he said, "And town gossip?"
"We never hear it," said Lady Lansmere.
"There is a new plough much talked of at Boodle's," said Lord Lansmere.
"God speed it. But is not there a new man much talked of at White's?"
"I don't belong to White's."
"Nevertheless, you may have heard of him,--a foreigner, a Count di
Peschiera."
"Yes," said Lord Lansmere; "he was pointed out to me in the Park,--a
handsome man for a foreigner; wears his hair properly cut; looks
gentlemanlike and English."
"Ah, ah! He is here then!" and Harley rubbed his hands.
"Which road did you take? Did you pass the Simplon?"
"No; I came straight from Vienna."
Then, relating with lively vein his adventures by the way, he continued
to delight Lord Lansmere by his gayety till the time came to retire to
rest. As soon as Harley was in his own room his mother joined him.
"Well," said he, "I need not ask if you like Miss Digby? Who would not?"
"Harley, my own son," said the mother, bursting into tears, "be happy
your own way; only be happy, that is all I ask."
Harley, much affected, replied gratefully and soothingly to this fond
injunction. And then gradually leading his mother on to converse of
Helen, asked abruptly, "And of the chance of our happiness,--her
happiness as well as mine,--what is your opinion? Speak frankly."
"Of her happiness there can be no doubt," replied the mother, proudly.
"Of yours, how can you ask me? Have you not decided on that yourself?"
"But still it cheers and encourages one in any experiment, however well
considered, to hear the approval of another. Helen has certainly a most
gentle temper."
"I should conjecture so. But her mind--"
"Is very well stored."
"She speaks so little--"
"Yes. I wonder why? She's surely a woman!"
"Pshaw," said the countess, smiling in spite of herself.
"But tell me more of the process of your experiment. You took her as a
child, and resolved to train her according to your own ideal. Was that
easy?"
"It seemed so. I desired to instil habits of truth: she was already by
nature truthful as the day; a taste for Nature and all things natural:
that seemed inborn; perceptions of Art as the interpreter of Nature:
those were more difficult to teach. I think they may come. You have
heard her play and sing?"
"NO."
"She will surprise you. She has less talent for drawing; still, all that
teaching could do has been done,--in a word, she is accomplished.
Temper, heart, mind,--these all are excellent." Harley stopped, and
suppressed a sigh. "Certainly I ought to be very happy," said he; and
he began to wind up his watch.
"Of course she must love you," said the countess, after a pause. "How
could she fail?"
"Love me! My dear mother, that is the very question I shall have to
ask."
"Ask! Love is discovered by a glance; it has no need of asking."
"I have never discovered it, then, I assure you. The fact is, that
before her childhood was passed, I removed her, as you may suppose, from
my roof. She resided with an Italian family near my usual abode. I
visited her often, directed her studies, watched her improvement--"
"And fell in love with her?"
"Fall is such a very violent word. No; I don't remember to have had a
fall. It was all a smooth inclined plane from the first step, until at
last I said to myself, 'Harley L'Estrange, thy time has come. The bud
has blossomed into flower. Take it to thy breast.' And myself replied
to myself, meekly, 'So be it.' Then I found that Lady N-----, with her
daughters, was coming to England. I asked her Ladyship to take my ward
to your house. I wrote to you, and prayed your assent; and, that
granted, I knew you would obtain my father's. Iam here,--you give me the
approval I sought for. I will speak to Helen to-morrow. Perhaps, after
all, she may reject me."
"Strange, strange! you speak thus coldly, thus lightly, you, so capable
of ardent love!"
"Mother," said Harley, earnestly, "be satisfied! I am! Love as
of old, I feel, alas! too well, can visit me never more. But gentle
companionship, tender friendship, the relief and the sunlight of woman's
smile, hereafter the voices of children,--music that, striking on the
hearts of both parents, wakens the most lasting and the purest of all
sympathies,--these are my hope. Is the hope so mean, my fond mother?"
Again the countess wept, and her tears were not dried when she left the
room.