MISCONCEPTION.
Little could Sybil or Audley have foreseen how fatal was to be the
ultimate termination of this night's adventure.
The usually sweet and placid little face of Constance was now
inflamed with rage and distorted by grief. Her colour came and went,
like her breath, rapidly; and through their tears, her dark eyes were
sparkling with fire.
A painful silence was maintained by the three for a few moments.
Sybil scarcely understood the cause of her mother's terrible
excitement, while Audley, who knew more of life and the world's ways,
was filled with genuine shame and mortification on finding that his
presence there was misunderstood, and the perfect purity of his
intentions misconceived or entirely doubted.
Constance, on the other hand, was full of indignation against him for
taking what she not unnaturally believed to be a most unwarrantable
and unfair advantage of their now false position, their growing
monetary troubles and disgrace, to insult her helpless daughter; she
was furious, therefore, as a tigress about to be robbed of her young,
and though fiery in her wrath, yet stately and proud in her bearing
as a little tragedy queen.
"How, sir, have you dared to come hither after being forbidden my
house?" she exclaimed, in the full belief that Audley, when
entreating only that he might write to Sybil, had been forcing a
passage into her chamber; "and why at such an untimeous hour as this?
Oh shame, sir! shame! Have you neither honour nor compassion? Could
you forget that the poor girl you pretended to love was your own
cousin?" Then changing suddenly from upbraiding to scorn, she added,
"Truly the legal snake Downie Trevelyan is well represented by his
son, who would break into my daughter's room like a thief in the
night, and seek perhaps to steal her honour, after having stolen her
patrimony! Begone, sir, instantly, ere I summon aid and have you
exposed--it may be, arrested."
"Oh, madam, do permit me to explain all this," urged Audley almost
piteously; but Constance, in the full tide of her indignation would
listen to nothing. She showered upon him reproaches, and, summoning
Winny Braddon, ordered her to ring the long disused house-bell, cast
loose the watch-dog, and bring assistance. Never had the terrified
Sybil seen her constitutionally gentle, placid, and ladylike mother
in so wild a gust of passion; and with clasped hands and colourless
face, she turned her weeping eyes alternately, with imploring
glances, from her to Audley, who seemed to feel acutely that his
position was absurd, dangerous, and pitiful; so he was filled by an
emotion of shame till it took the phase of irritation.
"Leave us, Audley, I entreat you--see, mamma is seriously ill!" said
Sybil, on perceiving Constance press her hands upon her temples,
displaying, as she did so, the snowy whiteness of her taper arms,
while tottering into a chair. Audley gave the scared girl a glance
full of agony in expression, and said:--
"I shall write and explain all, and she will do me justice when
calmer; to-night, any attempts at elucidation were utterly vain. I
am to blame for my rashness and selfishness in compromising you thus;
but not so much to blame as she thinks, however. Your heart at least
will excuse and plead for me; and now, dearest Sybil, a long,
long--farewell!"
He was gone!
Sybil stayed not to listen to his departing steps, but sprang to the
side of her mother, who, weakened by past sorrow and emotion, had
felt this episode in all its real and imaginary details, too much for
the nervous system. She had fainted, and now lay back in her chair
whiter than a lily.
Full of humiliation and anger, Audley retired, not as he had come, by
scaling the wall, but by the garden-gate, which he unlocked, and then
quitted the place, resolving to write to Constance fully on the
morrow. Irresolute and infirm of purpose, he continued to linger
near the villa, as the chill hours of the morning succeeded each
other, and it was far advanced ere he thought of seeking the vicinity
of the train that was to take him home. He saw the day-dawn spread
over the sea, and the shadows of the land, with its rocks and
precipices cast, by the level sunlight, far across its brightening
waters. He saw the gray mist rising from the valleys and rolling up
the brown mountain sides, as it did so revealing new ravines and
hollows it had hitherto concealed. He saw the red rays light up the
mighty headland known as Willapark Point; all the barren ridge of
Resparvell Down, and all the rocks and foam, and broken shore about
Tintagel and Trevana tinted with marvellous beauty, and varied light
and shadow, by the morning sun; and inland, Little Minster church,
secluded in its nook among the hills; and from an eminence which he
ascended, he could see amid the dun-coloured moorland, the lonely
tarn and huge rock pillar where he had first met Sybil Devereaux; and
with these all her presence, and the nameless magnetic charm she
possessed in her own person, came vividly home to his heart. When
the hedgerows that intersected the landscape would be green and those
enclosures of stone coped with turf in the Cornish fashion, would be
covered with wild violets, daisies, and kingcups; and when yonder
groves of sycamore, ash, and elm, and the cherry orchards should be
covered with the bloom of summer, half the world would be lying
between him and Sybil!
He stifled the emotions that were rising within him, hurried to the
railway, and throwing himself into a well-cushioned first-class
carriage (after "tipping" the guard, that he might be free from
intrusion), overcome and weary with the excitement and events of the
past night, he sank into a profound slumber, and reached home in time
to have a refresher of iced brandy and soda from Jasper Funnel before
that stolid functionary rung the breakfast-bell, and before his
somewhat unusual absence had been discovered by any one save his
valet.
From Rhoscadzhel he wrote immediately to Constance, explaining that
the sole object of his visit to Sybil was to bid her farewell, and
entreating her pardon for the misconception and annoyance he had
caused. To enable her to reply, he delayed his departure two days,
but in vain. However, the circumstance of his humble and contrite
letter being returned, not to himself, but under cover and unopened
to his father (whom she addressed as "D. Trevelyan, Esq.,
Barrister-at-Law"), thereby causing a fresh family explosion,
completed the full measure of his chagrin; and the young officer felt
deeply stung by the contemptuous manner in which it was tossed to him
across the breakfast-table.
"There, sir," said Downie, bitterly; "there is your precious
production; and remember that a fool should never post his letters
till twenty-four hours after they are written. I suppose we shall
next have notice of an action filed against you, for breach of
promise by that scoundrel Sharkley--Devereaux versus Trevelyan!"
That evening saw Audley depart from Rhoscadzhel.
He repaired at once to the depôt of his regiment, then lying in
Tilbury Barracks, that quaint old tumble-down fort, whose handsome
gateway, like a stately Temple Bar, has faced the river for nearly
three centuries; and there he strove to forget Cornwall and all the
trouble he had encountered, amid the dissipation and amusements
afforded by English garrison life to every wealthy young man.
Thus, when off duty, his days were consumed in tandem-driving,
pigeon, cricket, or rowing matches; _déjeûners_, an occasional
steeple-chase in Essex or Kent (or a day's leave in London to see the
Trecarrels); while his nights were devoted to dining out, dancing,
and drinking, billiards, and garrison balls, private theatricals,
and, consequently, a fierce flirtation with an occasional pretty
actress, despite rouge and pearl-powder.
It has been said that "at no time is a man so prone to fall in love
as immediately after his being jilted;" but many a fair one tried her
blandishments on Audley in vain; for he had been separated by adverse
fortune from, and not jilted by, the object of his attachment. A
long journey was before him, and he doubted not that he would get
over the memory of Sybil in time.
So passed the weeks till he would have to go to India in the spring
of the year; and thus he strove to forget her, who was yet to
exercise a wondrous influence on his future life; with the
recollection of those kisses that had thrilled his heart to the core,
and those soft dark eyes whose beauty made even silence eloquent.
And did he achieve this complete forgetfulness?
Time and our story will show.