THE SACRIFICE.
I know I love in vain--strive against hope--
Yet in this captious and intenible sieve
I still pour out the waters of my love,
And lack not to love still.
SHAKSPEARE.--_All's Well that Ends Well._
When Cecil re-entered the drawing-room, he found it exactly as he had
left it, except that Tom Wincot was playing whist in place of Captain
Heath, who stood leaning against the mantelpiece, with his left hand
caressing the shaggy head of Shot; that favoured animal stood with
his fore-paws resting on the fender, and his face raised inquiringly,
as if to ascertain the reason of his friend's paleness. Pale,
indeed, was the handsome face of that brave, sorrowing man; and the
keen sympathy of the hound had read in its rigidity and calmness the
signs of suffering, which escaped the notice of every one else. True
it is that the captain somewhat shielded his face from observation
by, with his left hand, twirling his moustache, a practice too
habitual with him to call forth any remark.
Cecil was in such a state of excitement, that the girls remarked it.
He joked, laughed joyously at the most trivial observation, sang with
prodigious fervour, and declared there was nothing like a moonlight
ramble for the cure of the heartburn.
"It seems to have been the heart-_ache_," said Rose, "by the
exuberance of your spirits after the cure."
Cecil looked up, and seeing her saucy smile, and her eyes swimming in
laughter, knew that she was not serious, so he asked what should make
his heart ache?
"Ay, ay," said Vyner, "what, indeed? _quo beatus vulnere_? If you
have discovered, let us hear it."
"Yes, yes, tell us his secwet by all means," said Wincot, throwing
down his last card; "two by honours, thwee by twicks--game--that
makes a single, a tweble, and the wub: six points!"
"No, no," said Rose, shaking her head, "I shall not say it now."
"Pray, don't spare me," said Cecil. "I am quite sure it was
something satirical."
"It was; but I don't choose to say it now."
Captain Heath continued to pat Shot's head; but he neither looked up,
nor joined in the conversation. Cecil, who had several times
endeavoured in vain to make him talk, left him at last to his
reflections, whispering to Rose,--
"He is too grave for our frivolities."
Cecil's excitement continued all the evening. He slept well that
night, cradled in enchanting dreams.
What Blanche felt as she stole up to her own room, rapidly undressed
herself, and crept into bed, I leave to my young and pretty readers
to conjecture.
The next evening, though they had several brief snatches of
_tête-à-tête_ during the day, our lovers were again to indulge in a
moonlight ramble, hoping no doubt for a repetition of the first.
Blanche early pleaded fatigue, and declared her intention of soon
retiring for the night.
"Don't go to bed, as you did last night," said Captain Heath; "if you
are weary, take a turn with me in the shrubbery: there is a lovely
moon."
Blanche coloured deeply, and kept her eyes fixed upon her work.
Cecil looked at him, as if to read the hidden meaning of those words.
It was a moment of suspense. The entrance of tea enabled them to
hide their emotions; and, by occasioning a change of seats, brought
the captain close to Blanche.
"How imprudent you are!" he whispered. "Accept my offer of a walk,
and _he_ shall accompany us; when we are out of sight, I will leave
you; but by all three going out together, no suspicion will be
raised."
Blanche trembled and blushed, but made no answer. The discovery of
her last night's interview was implied in what he said; and with that
was implied this other fact, which then for the first time flashed
across her mind: Captain Heath loved her. It was his sob which had
startled them.
If, amidst her compassion for his unhappy love, there was mixed some
secret gratification at having excited that passion, no one will
speak harshly of her; it would be too much to expect human nature
should be insensible to the flattery of affection. But flattered as
she was by the discovery, she was also sensible of the noble delicacy
of his conduct in the matter; and when she raised her humid eyes to
look her thanks, it was with a severe pang that she noticed the
alteration in his appearance. One night had added ten years to his
age.
"Miss Blanche and I are going to stroll out and enjoy the harvest
moon," said Captain Heath about half an hour afterwards to Cecil,
"will you join us?"
Cecil looked amazed, and felt inclined to throw him out of the window
for his proposition, but Blanche made a sign to him to accept, and he
accepted.
"And I suppose I am not to come?" said Rose.
"Certainly--if you like," replied the captain.
"No, you may go without me. _Three_ is company, and two is none,"
she said, parodying the popular phrase, "and if I came, we should be
two and two."
The captain did not press the matter, but offering Blanche his arm
led her out, followed by Cecil, somewhat sulky, and not at all
comprehending the affair.
"There, now I surrender her to your charge," said the captain, when
they were within hearing of the waterfall, "having saved your meeting
from suspicion. Continue your walk, I am here as sentinel."
He seated himself upon a gate with all the quietness of the most
ordinary transaction. Cecil, who was a good deal annoyed at this
interference of a third party, made no reply; he was not even
grateful for the service rendered.
Blanche, who knew what it must have cost the captain thus to
sacrifice his own feelings, and think only of her safety, took his
hand in hers, and kissed it silently. A tear fell on it as he
withdrew it.
"Make the most of your time," he said.
In another instant he was alone.
The intense gratification he felt in making this sacrifice, will be
appreciated by those who know what it is to forego their own claims
in favour of another--to trample on their own egotisms, and act as
their conscience approves. The mixture of pain only added to the
intensity of the delight; as perhaps no enjoyment is ever perfect,
physical or moral, without the keen sense of pain thrown in as a zest.
His greatest hope in life was gone, and yet he sat there not torn by
miserable jealousy, but warmed with the glow of self-sacrifice. And
this is the meaning of virtue being its own reward: had he acted with
only ordinary meanness, had he done what hundreds and hundreds would
have done in his place, he would have suffered tortures all the more
horrible, because unavailing. Instead of that, he looked
courageously into the grim countenance of misfortune, saw that he was
not loved, that another had received the heart he coveted, and having
seen that, he determined to stifle the mighty hunger of his heart, to
give up all futile hope, and to devote himself to her happiness in
such ways as he could forward it.
The lovers, with the selfishness of lovers, had speedily forgotten
him and every one else. But although they sat upon the self-same
tree; although they clasped each other by the hand, and looked into
each other's eyes, their interview was cold compared with that of the
night before.
One reason might be, that on that night they talked of love; on this,
they talked of marriage. Cecil explained to her the state of his
affairs, and asked her if she could leave her present luxurious home
to share his humbler one.
This question is always asked under those circumstances; though the
questioner knows very well that it is pre-eminently superfluous, and
that there is but one possible answer, conveyed in a look and a kiss.
The answer, however, is agreeable enough to warrant the question; is
it not?
Lovers are singularly insincere with each other, and play at
doubts--and sometimes very offensive doubts--with an air of
earnestness which would imply considerable duplicity, were it not one
of the _instincts_ of passion. The truth is, Love loves to hear the
assurance of love; and to hear this assurance, of which it is already
sure, it pretends to have doubts, merely to have them removed.
Let us forgive Cecil his insincerity in asking Blanche that question;
and let us pass over in silence all the others which he asked, and to
which he got the same sweet answer. They remained there a long
while; at least it seemed so to their sentinel; to them it seemed too
brief. But they rose at a signal he gave; and when they came up with
him, he said, gravely, "Mr. Chamberlayne, I trust you will take what
I am about to say with the same candour as I say it. I am anxious to
serve you, not to lecture you. Although, therefore, I know nothing
of the reasons which you may have for keeping your mutual attachment
secret, I am strongly of opinion that the best and wisest thing you
can do is to make it public at once. Ask her father's consent, but
do not be discovered in clandestine meetings. If you desire it, I
will break the matter to Mr. Vyner, and plead your cause to the best
of my ability."
This was received in complete silence. Cecil was alarmed; Blanche
kept her eyes fixed on him.
"Reflect upon it," added the captain, as he led the way to the house.
Some inexplicable foreboding damped Cecil's spirits at the idea of
declaring to her father his affection for Blanche; and this
foreboding was realized in the course of the evening by Vyner
casually mentioning, in his hearing, that which Captain Heath had
already informed him of, respecting the portionless state of the
girls.
"So I tell my girls," he added, "they must keep strict guard over
their hearts, to be sure they give them to no beggar. The more so"
(here he looked at Cecil) "because, if they felt inclined to make
fools of themselves, I certainly should not allow them to do so."
The thought occurred to Cecil, "Can Heath have betrayed me? and is
that speech levelled at me?"
He looked at the captain to read the treachery on his brow; but that
calm, honest face triumphantly withstood the scrutiny; and Cecil no
longer accused him.
The truth is, Vyner did suspect that Cecil was paying too great
attention to Blanche, and had levelled his speech at him, imagining
that the hint would be taken. Since that morning when the most
splendid discovery on the Horatian metres ever made, had been so ill
appreciated, Vyner ceased to regard him with the same pleasure as
before; and in criticizing his actions, observed his attentions to
Blanche.
"You see how fatal your counsel would be," whispered Cecil to the
captain, as he took his candle and retired for the night.