Oh! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
SHAKESPEARE.
The next morning when Margaret came down to breakfast, she enjoyed in
perfection all the feelings which shyness produces in very young people.
She hoped that Mr. Haveloc would not be in the library, and that he
would not speak to her if he was there; and she tried to recollect what
people always tell very shy girls, that she was not of sufficient
importance to be taken notice of. This, by the way, is not exactly the
means best adapted to the end in view; a sense of insignificance is a
very material cause of shyness, and to strengthen this idea is one way
to confirm a person in shyness for the rest of their lives.
Her colour mounted as she opened the door, and she was not a little
relieved to find the library vacant.
While she was employed in making the breakfast, she saw Mr. Haveloc pass
the window apparently in deep thought. He was accompanied by a couple of
beautiful dogs, a spaniel and a setter. But he paid no attention to
their movements, except by sometimes passing his hand over their silken
heads in return for their caresses.
A recollection of his adventures induced Margaret to regard him with
some attention, now that she was able to do so unseen. He would not have
been generally considered handsome. His forehead was remarkably massive,
and his eyes a dark hazel, capable of every variety of expression: he
was, to say the truth, very much sun-burned; and he wore his black hair,
not long, indeed, but turned inwards like a scroll, after the fashion
of some of our early Kings. There was an expression of discontent and
disdain on his face which Margaret thought very disagreeable; but at any
rate he was just as much discontented with himself as he was with other
people, and no doubt with equally good reason.
Mr. Grey came down, and received Margaret with his usual affection, and
seeing Mr. Haveloc walking at a little distance, he called to him, and
bade him come in, saying to Margaret as he returned from the window,
"That young man now, is the only one who reminds me of what they used to
be in my young days. They are quite altered now, my dear; they are much
more selfish and calculating; they don't neglect their own interests so
much, but they neglect other people's feelings a great deal more. There
was some vice certainly; they drank hard, my dear, but they told the
truth, and that is a great blessing. I think when I was young, a man
would be ashamed to tell a falsehood. It could not be done, my dear;
they do it now every day."
Margaret said, "Yes, Sir," to every clause in this speech, and wondered
to herself whether all the young men used to look so gloomy and
distracted as Mr. Haveloc looked when he entered the room. He bowed to
her, and she thought he said "good morning." She returned the
salutation, but not the words; and then he turned to Mr. Grey and
offered to banish his dogs, which had followed him into the room.
"By no means," Mr. Grey said, "he liked animals about him, unless
Margaret was afraid of them."
"Oh, Sir! I am afraid of nothing," said Margaret, smiling at Mr. Grey
under shelter of the urn.
Whether the sentiment, or the delightful voice in which it was uttered,
struck Mr. Haveloc, is uncertain; but he moved his chair with the
intention of gaining a better view of the fair speaker. The urn was,
however, unfavourable to him, and she afforded him little more
opportunity of hearing the sound of her voice during breakfast. As soon
as breakfast was over, Mr. Haveloc asked Mr. Grey how soon it would be
possible for him to call on Mr. Warde. He had yet to learn, he said, how
these things were managed in England.
Mr. Grey was certain that Mr. Warde would be glad to see him at any
time, such an old friend as he was.
Mr. Haveloc asked if Mrs. Somerton and her daughters were staying at the
vicarage?
"No," Mr. Grey said; "they had been on a visit to one of their relations
for some months."
Margaret thought she heard Mr. Haveloc mutter a thanksgiving as he
turned away. He walked to the window and began caressing his dogs.
"And what are you going to do, my darling?" asked Mr. Grey.
"A great many things, Sir. First, I shall practise as soon as ever
Land--oh! come here, Land; when can you spare time to come with me to
the organ? Not before twelve--very well. I shall read till Land is ready
for me, and then--oh! dear Sir, there is Miss Gage on her beautiful grey
horse. Oh, Sir! it is not a very hard frost, it is very nearly spring.
Will you soon buy me a pony? That is to say a horse, dear uncle; I
should look so little on a pony. There is nothing in the world I wish
for so much, and it is so long to wait until spring."
"But which is it?" said her uncle stroking down her soft thick tresses
of hair, "is it a very long, or a very short time till spring?"
Margaret paused a little--she wished to make it appear short; but early
in February it would not do. "The truth is uncle," said she blushing
with the effort, "it is a long time."
"Right, my child, the truth!" said Mr. Grey; "you shall have a horse as
soon as I can meet with one; only we will not ride him until the weather
is a little warmer."
Margaret was almost speechless with delight, and had fairly forgotten
the presence of Mr. Haveloc, who stood regarding her with a smile of
such softened expression, that she would scarcely have recognised him.
Miss Gage was riding with her brother, and when they arrived before the
house, they pulled up their horses. Hubert Gage dismounted, ran up the
hall steps, rang the bell, pushed open the door, and came into the
library without any farther ceremony.
Mr. Grey welcomed him very warmly. He was very fond of young people, and
felt sincere pleasure in seeing him again. Mr. Haveloc came forwards
with more animation than Margaret had seen him express, shook hands
heartily with Hubert, and remarked that he was very glad their return to
England should chance at the same time.
"Why did not you tell me he was here?" said Hubert turning to Margaret,
"when we were talking over old stories last night?"
"I did not know it," replied Margaret.
"Well, Bessy will not dismount, it is such a trouble to mount her
again," he said; "so she desires me to ask if you will drive out with
her after luncheon?"
"I shall like it very much--it is very kind of her," said Margaret. "I
may, Sir?"
"With all my heart, my child," said Mr. Grey.
"Ay, I should first have asked your uncle, should not I?" said Hubert
laughing. "Have you been out to-day?"
"No--not yet."
"Oh! bless me, of course it is too early," said he, taking out a
diminutive watch, which looked more striking on him than on a person of
ordinary dimensions. "I wonder you are up at this hour."
"You are keeping Miss Gage in the cold all this time," said Margaret.
"So I am, but I cannot get away," he returned, looking archly at her.
She wished she could help colouring, but the beautiful crimson stole
over her cheeks at the implied compliment.
"Don't you think us half mad to ride in such weather?" asked Hubert.
"The truth is, I wished to see Bessy in her habit again."
"I think it is better to ride than sit still in the cold," said
Margaret. "I shall run out, and tell Miss Gage it is not my fault."
"You will not do any such thing," said Hubert, placing himself in the
doorway, "you shall not catch cold for my sins--I am off."
"But Hubert," said Mr. Grey, detaining him, "will you dine with us?
Claude will be very glad, I am sure--and if you could prevail on Miss
Gage to accompany you, it would give great pleasure to my little niece."
"I am sure Bessy will be very happy," said Hubert, "as for me, I shall
be delighted."
This was said with a distinct bow to Margaret, which left but little
doubt of his meaning.
"Only allow me to say to-morrow instead of to-day, because my father
goes to a county meeting to-morrow, and so--"
"That will do just as well," said Mr. Grey, "very considerate of you,
Hubert."
Mr. Haveloc, who had been standing with some hesitation of manner for
some moments, now took a sudden resolution, dashed down the steps, and
spoke to Miss Gage. Margaret could see from the window that she greeted
him with her usual sweetness of demeanour; and, when her brother was
mounted, that she stretched her hand out, which he took with an air of
great respect.
Little Margaret, whose brains were somewhat active in giving to every
day occurrences the colourings of romance, fancied that their interview
was like that of a Queen with some favoured noble, and as Land's gossip
had assigned Mr. Haveloc to Miss Gage in common with a crowd of other
suitors, she fancied that, in this instance, there might be some truth
in the report. And such a wicked young man! She supposed Miss Gage did
not know the dreadful story she had heard about him.
"What a fine young man Hubert Gage has grown," said Mr. Grey, as he
returned from the window, "the finest young man I ever saw!"
Margaret coloured as the remark was addressed to her, and went off to
her own occupations.
She saw nothing more of Mr. Haveloc during the morning; her studies kept
her employed until luncheon, and she had hardly finished her cold
chicken when Miss Gage's carriage drove up to the door. She put on her
bonnet in a hurry, flew into the hall, and almost ran against Mr.
Haveloc, who was coming up the steps at the moment.
He stopped, took off his hat, and handed her into the carriage. Miss
Gage greeted her very kindly--asked her which way she would like to
drive; gave her orders; drew up the glass and drove off.
After a few general remarks, Margaret coloured, paused, played with her
boa, and then said:--
"I should like to talk to you about something, if you would not think me
foolish."
"What is it, my dear?" asked Elizabeth, taking Margaret's hand; "never
mind if it is foolish--we are all foolish sometimes."
"It is such a plague to me, Mr. Haveloc coming," said Margaret. "It
spoils everything. I cannot talk to my uncle, or play the organ, or do
anything so comfortably now that he is in the house. I cannot stand on
the library steps, and read from the shelves;--perhaps you would laugh
at this, but you don't know the difference it makes."
"I can very well understand that it does," said Miss Gage, "but Mr.
Haveloc's society is a great happiness to your uncle, and you must
weigh that against the embarrassment he makes you feel."
"So I ought," said Margaret.
"I recollect when I knew him, several years ago," said Miss Gage,
"although he possessed great powers of pleasing where he was intimate,
yet he was a little too reserved in general society."
"And I am sure he is very proud!" said Margaret, eagerly.
Miss Gage laughed at this remark, and made no attempt to exculpate him
from the charge: she merely added that she thought him very much altered
in appearance, but that a person of his character would be less
troublesome as an inmate, to her, than one of a more sociable
disposition, since she would very rarely be obliged to enter into
conversation with him.
Margaret agreed to this, and the subject was dropped.
Now, had Miss Gage chosen to exercise her wit by jesting with Margaret
upon her timidity instead of calmly talking it over, she would have
confirmed her in a silly bashfulness, as much opposed as possible to
real modesty. As it was, she felt a sort of composure from having
_talked through_ a subject she rather dreaded to mention; and her
feelings acquired an equilibrium, that very much added to her comfort
when she again encountered the person in question. But how few people
could have resisted the pleasure of laughing at a young girl about any
young man who might chance to be staying in the house.
Mr. Warde came to dinner. Margaret was very glad to see him; but there
was so much to be talked over between him and Mr. Haveloc, that there
was little time for her to make any historical enquiries. The
conversation did not prevent Mr. Haveloc from being very attentive to
her, as far as actions went. He took the carving out of her hands--saw
that she had every thing she wanted--directed the screen to be altered
which protected her but imperfectly from the fire, and mentioned to her
that Richards had brought a whole forest of azalias into the library
while she was taking her drive; with which piece of information he began
and ended his discourse.
She learned, during dinner, that he was very near-sighted, which
circumstance gave her great satisfaction. The certainty that he could
not distinguish her across the table, unless he took up his glass, which
she had never seen him do, gave her a confidence and a feeling of
freedom, which removed one strong objection she had felt to his
presence.
The evening passed as usual; as they dined late, the serving of coffee
and tea nearly took up the time until they separated. Mr. Warde talked
kindly to Margaret about the books she was anxious to read, and Mr.
Haveloc played a game of piquet with Mr. Grey. When she saw how very
attentive he was to her dear uncle, she could not help wishing that he
was less wicked, but as she remarked to herself, it was no business of
hers.