CHAPTER XXX

_Here have I found at last a home of peace,

To hide me from the world! far from its noise,

To feed that spirit which, though----

----linked to human beings by the bond

Of earthly love, hath yet a loftier aim

Than perishable joy! and through the calm

That sleeps amid this mountain solitude,

Can hear the billows of eternity,

And hear delighted!_

John Wilson.

'But seriously, Charlotte,' said I, when at a late hour we found

ourselves once more alone in our chamber, 'seriously, do you think it

was quite right in you to use this concealment with me?'

'Seriously, I think it was. Long before I knew you, I could have guessed

that you would dislike receiving even a trifling service from Mr ----.

No, I never yet called Henry Graham by that upstart mercantile name, and

I never will. To tell you the truth, Ellen, my brother had so far made

me his confidant, that, judging of you by myself, I thought you would

rather lose your money than owe it to his good offices.'

'I am sorry you thought it necessary to humour my pride at such an

expense. Humbled and mortified I might have been by any kindness from Mr

Maitland; but I have perhaps deserved the humiliation more than the

kindness. He owes me a little mortification, for drawing him into the

greatest folly he ever was guilty of.'

'Oh you must not imagine that all my discretion was exerted only to

humour your saucy spirit. I had a purpose of my own to serve. I dare

say we should never have slid into any real intimacy, if you had known

me to be the sister of a quondam lover; watching, no doubt, with a

little womanly jealousy, the character of one whom my favourite brother

_once_ loved better than me.'

'I am persuaded this could have made little difference; for my faults,

unfortunately, will not be concealed; and my good qualities I shall

always be willing enough to display.'

'Oh, to be sure, my dear humble Miss Percy would knowingly and wittingly

have come here to ingratiate herself with us all! No doubt, you would

have been much more at home with us, had you known our connection with

your old admirer! and no doubt, you would have quietly waited his

arrival here, that you might be courted in due form!'

'Pshaw, Charlotte, I am sure that it--I hope--I mean, I am quite certain

that your brother has no such nonsense in his thoughts. And I am sure it

is much better it should be so; for you know I have always told you that

I have a natural indifference about me--Heigho!'

'What! even after you have seen that "it was your duty to be in love

long ago!" Will you "deprive" yourself of "the honour," the

"happiness"----'

'Surely, Charlotte, you will never be so mischievous, so cruel, as to

repeat these thoughtless, unmeaning expressions to your brother! You

know they were spoken under entire misconception. And, besides, to be

sensible of what I ought once to have done is a very different thing

from being able to do it now.'

'Make yourself quite easy, my dear Ellen,' said Charlotte, with a

provoking smile, 'I have more _esprit de corps_ than to tell a lady's

secret. Besides, even for my brother's own sake, I shall leave him to

make discoveries for himself. But by the way, it is very good-natured in

me to promise all this; for I have reason to be angry, that you think it

necessary to warn me against repeating any thing uttered in the mere

unguardedness of chit-chat.'

I made no apology; for I have such an abhorrence of trick and

contrivance of every kind, that, to own the truth, I, at that moment,

felt half-justified in withdrawing part of my confidence from Charlotte.

'How in the world did such a scheme occur to you?' said I, after a

pause. 'Nothing like a plot ever enters my head.'

'It occurred to me in the simplest way possible, my dear. Henry writes

to me remitting your money; describing you so as to prevent any chance

of imposition; and charging me not to rest till I have found you. "It

will distress her," says he, "to owe this little service to me, but

perhaps there is no remedy." Now, was not the very spirit of

contradiction enough to make one devise a remedy? Then he goes on--stay,

here is the letter:--

'"If she be found, I do not ask you to receive her to your acquaintance,

to your intimacy. There is something in Miss Percy which will

irresistibly win you to both. But I do ask you to tell me, with perfect

candour, the impression which her character makes upon your mind. Tell

me, with minute exactness, of her temper, her sentiments, her

employments, her pleasures. Describe even her looks and gestures. There

is meaning in the least of them. Write fearlessly--I am no weak lover

now. I know you ladies are all firm believers in the eternity of love;

and one part of the passion is indeed immortal in a heart of ordinary

warmth and delicacy. My interest in Miss Percy's welfare and improvement

is not less strong than in yours, my own Charlotte. Perhaps the

precariousness of her situation even turns my anxieties more strongly

towards her. Of course, this will no longer be the case when I know that

she is safe at Eredine; for you must prevail upon her to visit Eredine.

She has a thousand little _womanlinesses_ about her, which you could

never observe in an ordinary acquaintance of calls and tea-drinkings;

and you must be intimate with her before you can know or value that

delightful warmth and singleness of heart, which cannot but attach you.

I am sure she will bewitch my father. There is a gladness in her smile

that will delight his very soul."

'Have not Henry and I shown a very decent portion of Highland

second-sight and discretion, think you, Ellen? His prediction has been

quite verified; and I am sure I have managed the plot incomparably.'

'Ah, but Charlotte, after all, I wonder how you found it practicable. It

was a hundred to one that somebody should have let me into the secret.'

'Hum! I might have been in some danger while we were in Edinburgh,

though few people there knew any thing of the matter. But, from the

moment we reached Glen Eredine, I knew we were safe. Nobody here would

mention to an inmate of our family the only shade that ever rested on

its name. Thank Heaven, even this stain is effaced now;--if, indeed, it

be a stain to submit to a temporary degradation in obedience to a

mother. You need not smile, Ellen. I am not so prejudiced as you think

me. I know that, if the name of those merchants had been mean as

obscurity could make it, it would have become honourable when borne by

Henry Graham. And to be sure, all professions are alike in the eye of

reason; only there are some which I think a gentleman should leave to

people who need money to distinguish them.'

'Well,' said I, laughing, 'now that you have convinced me that you have

no prejudice, tell me how you could be sure that I only knew your

brother by his "upstart mercantile name." If he had had the spirit of

his sister, he could not have refrained from hinting his right to be

called a Graham.'

'Oh, but Henry has nothing boastful in his disposition; and I knew that,

having given up his name to please his uncle, he scorned to make the

sacrifice by halves. The old gentleman hated us all as a clan of rebels;

and, while he lived, my mother would never even allow us to address our

letters to Henry under his real name; and I don't believe poor Henry

himself ever mentioned it to a human being. So, before I saw you, I

guessed that you might not be in the secret; and the moment I entered on

the business with you, I found I had guessed right. But I dare say Henry

will tell you his whole story now; for you must have many a confidential

_tete-a-tete_.'

Confidential _tete-a-tetes_ with Mr Maitland! The idea led me into such

a reverie, that before I spoke again Charlotte was in bed, and asleep.

I rose early; and yet, in three months of country negligence, my clothes

had all grown so troublesomely unbecoming, that, before I could make

them look tolerable, the family were assembled at breakfast. Maitland

took his place by me. 'I will sit between my sisters,' said he; and from

that time he called me, 'Sister Ellen.' The kindness of his manner made

me burn with shame at the recollection of my ungenerous purpose against

his peace. I held down my head, and was ready to thank Heaven that I saw

him well and happy. I was very glad, however, when I handed him his tea,

that my hand and arm were quite as beautiful as ever. My embarrassment

soon wore away. Maitland had evidently forgiven, he had almost, I

thought, forgotten my misconduct. So respectful, so kind were his

attentions, so equally divided between Charlotte and me, that I soon

forgot my restraint; and caught myself chattering and playing the fool

in my own natural manner.

The day was past before I was aware; and every day stole away I know not

how. Their flight was marked only by our progress in the books which

Maitland read with Charlotte and me; or by that of a large plantation

which we all superintended together. Yet I protest, I have suffered more

weariness in one party of pleasure, than I did in a whole winter in Glen

Eredine. For, though the gentlemen always spent the mornings apart from

us, Charlotte and I were at no loss to fill up the hours of their

absence in the duties consequent upon being not only joint housewives in

the Castle, but schoolmistresses, chamber-council, physicians,

apothecaries, and listeners-general to all the female inhabitants of

Glen Eredine. What endless, what innumerable stories did this latter

office oblige me to hear? I am persuaded that I know not only the

present circumstances and characters of every person in the Glen, but

their family history from time immemorial, besides certain prophetic

glimpses of their future fortunes.

I entirely escaped, however, the heavier labour of entertaining idle

gentlemen; for the bitterest storm of winter never confined Eredine or

Mr Graham to the fireside. Wrapped in their plaids, they braved the

blast, as the sports or the employments of the field required; and

returned prepared to be pleased with every thing at home. Our evenings

were delightful; enlivened as they were by Eredine's cheerfulness,

Charlotte's frank vivacity, and Henry's sly quiet humour.

How often in their course did I wonder that I could ever think Maitland

cold and stately? His extensive information, his acquaintance with

scenes and manners which were new to us all, did indeed render his

conversation a source of instruction, as well as of amusement; but no

man was ever more free from that tendency towards dogma and harangue,

which is so apt to infect those who chiefly converse with inferiors. He

joined his family circle, neither determined to be wise nor to be witty,

but to give and receive pleasure. His was the true fire of conversation;

the kindly warmth was essential to its nature, the brilliance was an

accident. Maitland, indeed--but I must bid farewell to that name, the

only subject on which I cannot sympathise with the friends whom I love

the best. To me, though it be coupled with feeling of self-reproach and

regret, it is associated too with all that is venerable in worth, and

all that is splendid in eloquence. I exchange it for a noble name,--a

name which has mingled with many a wild verse, and many a romantic

tale,--a name which the historian and the poet shall celebrate when they

blazon actions more dazzling, but not more virtuous than those which

daily marked the life of Henry Graham!

Spring came; and never, since the first spring adorned Eden, did that

season appear so lovely! So soft were its colours, so balmy its breezes,

so pure, so peaceful its moonlight,--such repose, such blest seclusion,

such confidential kindly home-breathing sweetness were in every scene! I

shall never forget the delightful coolness of a shower that dimpled the

calm lake, as Graham and I stood sheltered by an old fantastic fir-tree.

No sound was heard but the hush of the rain drops, and now and then the

distant wailing of the water-fowl. 'How often, both sleeping and awake,

have I dreamt of this!' said Graham, in the low confiding tone which

scarcely disturbed the stillness. 'And even now, I can scarcely believe

that it is not all a dream. This profound repose! every shadow sleeping

just where it lay, when I used to wonder what immeasurable depth of

waters could so represent the vault of heaven! And after my weary exile,

to be thus near to all that is dearest to me,--to feel their very

touch,--their very breath on my cheek----'

I know not how it happened, but at that moment, I breathed with some

difficulty, and moved a little away. But then I suddenly recollected

that Charlotte was standing at his other side; and I moved back again,

lest he should think me very silly indeed. For Mr Graham was no lover of

mine; that is, he never talked of love to me; but I had begun to feel an

odd curiosity to know whether he ever would talk of it, and when.

I pondered this matter very deeply for some days; and, after sundry

lonely rambles, and sederunts under the aforesaid fir-tree, I convinced

myself that, if Mr Graham chose to make love, I could not, without

abominable ingratitude, refuse to listen.

I had returned from one of these rambles, and was just going to enter

the parlour, when, as I opened the door, I was arrested by the voice of

Graham within, speaking in that impressive tone of suppressed emotion

which he had already fixed irrevocably in my recollection. 'If it be

so,' said he, 'I am gone to-morrow. This day se'nnight I shall be in

London.'

I was thunderstruck. He was going then without a thought of me! My hand

dropped from the lock; and I turned away, in a confused desire to escape

from his sight and hearing.

'Bless me! Ellen! what is the matter with you?' cried Charlotte, whom I

met on the stair. I hurried past her without speaking, and shut myself

into my own apartment.

'What _is_ the matter with me!' said I, throwing myself on a seat. The

question was no sooner asked than answered; and, though I was alone, I

could not help covering my face with my hands. The first distinct

purpose which broke in upon my amazement and consternation was, to see

Graham no more; to remain in my place of refuge till he was gone; and

then--it did not signify what then!--all after-life must be a blank

then!

However, I was obliged to yield to Charlotte's entreaties for admission;

and, though all the interests of life were so soon to close, I was

obliged to take my tea; and then I was half forced to try the open air,

as a remedy for the headach, to which, like all heroines, I ascribed my

agitation. I somewhat repented of this compliance, however, when I found

that Graham was to be the companion of my walk; and, though I could not

decently refuse to take his arm, I endeavoured to look as frozen and

disagreeable as possible. He spoke to me, however, with such kind

solicitude; such respectful tenderness, that I was soon a little

reconciled to myself and him; and when Charlotte declared that she must

stop to visit a sick cottager, and he would by no means allow me to

breathe the close air of the cabin, I must own that I began to feel an

instinctive desire to escape a _tete-a-tete_. But I had not presence of

mind enough to defeat his purpose, and we pursued our walk together.

He led me towards a little woody dell; I talking laboriously without

having any thing to say, he preserving an abstracted silence. But this

could not long continue; and, by the time we had lost sight of human

dwelling, our conversation was confined to short sentences, which, at

intervals of some minutes, made the listener start. In mere escape from

the awkwardness of my situation, I uttered some commonplace on the

beauty of the scenery; and desired Graham to look back towards the

bright lake, seen through the vista formed by the shaggy rocks, which

threw a twilight round us.

'Yes,' said he, with a faint smile; 'let us stand and look at it

together for a few short moments. Perhaps one of us will never again see

it with pleasure. Lean on me, dear Miss Percy, as you are used to do,

and let me be happy while I dare.'

He paused, but my eloquence was exhausted. I could not utter a word.

'This night, this very hour,' he went on, 'must make all these beauties

a sickening blank to me, or perhaps heighten their interest a thousand

fold! Before we part this night, Ellen, I must learn from you whether

duty and pleasure are never to unite for me. You know how long I have

loved you, but I fear you can scarcely guess how tenderly. Dearest

Ellen! think what the affection must be, which withstood your errors,

your indifference, your scorn;--which neither time nor absence, nor

reason, could overcome. Think what it must be now, when I see thee all

that man ought to love! To live without you now, to remember thy form in

every scene, and know that thou art gone:--oh, Ellen! do not force me to

bear this! Say that you will permit me to try what perseverance, what

love unutterable, can do to win for me such affection as will satisfy

your own sense of duty, your own innocent mind, in that blessed

connection which would make us more than lovers or friends to each

other.'

He paused in vain for a reply. If the fate of the universe had depended

on my speaking, I could have uttered nothing intelligible. I suppose,

however, the pleader began to conceive good hopes of his cause; for a

certain degree of saucy exultation mingled with the tones of entreaty,

as he said, 'Speak to me, dearest Ellen--only one word. Tell me that I

may one day hope to hear you own, that friendship, or habit, or call it

what you will, has made me necessary to your happiness.'

I would have given the world for some expression that should convey

decent security to the worthy heart of Graham, without quite betraying

the weakness of my own. 'I cannot promise,' said I, without daring to

look up, 'that ever you will bring me to actual confession.'

'Nay, Ellen,' said the unreasonable creature, 'think you this little

coquettish answer will content a man who asks his whole happiness from

you?'

'I am sure I do not mean to coquet. Tell me what you wish me--what I

ought to say, and I will say it,--if I can.'

'My own, my bewitching Ellen--' said Graham.

But hold! I will not tell what he said. If Henry Graham for once spoke

nonsense, it would ill become me to record it. Nor will I relate my

answer; because, in truth, I know not what it was. But Graham understood

it to mean, that I was no longer the arrogant girl whose understanding,

dazzled by prosperity, was blind to his merit; whose heart, hardened by

vanity, was insensible to his love; no longer the thoughtless being

whose hopes and wishes were engrossed by the most substantial of all the

cheats that delude us in this world of shadows;--but a humbled creature,

thankful to find, in his sound mind and steady principle, a support for

her acknowledged weakness;--a traveller to a better country, pleased to

meet a fellow-pilgrim, who, animating her diligence, and checking her

wanderings, might soothe the toils of her journey, and rejoice with her

for ever in its blessed termination.

I have now been many years a wife; and, in all that time, have never

left, nor wished to leave, Glen Eredine. Graham is still a kind of

lover; and though I retain a little of the coquettish sauciness of Ellen

Percy, I here confess that he is, if it be possible, dearer to me than

when he first folded his bride to his heart, and whispered, 'Mine for

ever.'

We are still the guests of our venerable father; and within this hour he

told me, that his heart makes no difference between me and his own

Charlotte. Some misses lately arrived from a boarding-school, have begun

to call my sister an old maid; yet I do not perceive that this

cabalistic term has produced any ill effect on Charlotte's temper, or on

her happiness.

I am the mother of three hardy, generous boys, and two pretty,

affectionate little girls. But far beyond my own walls extend the

charities of kindred. Many a smoke, curling in the morning sun, guides

my eye to the abode of true, though humble friends; for every one of

this faithful romantic race is united to me by the ties of relationship.

I am the mother of their future chieftain. Their interests, their joys,

their sorrows, are become my own.

Having in my early days seized the enjoyments which selfish pleasure can

bestow, I might now compare them with those of enlarged affections, of

useful employment, of relaxations truly social, of lofty contemplation,

of devout thankfulness, of glorious hope. I might compare them!--but the

Lowland tongue wants energy for the contrast.

* * * * *

Transcriber's note:

Punctuation has been standardized except on page 25, after "'the way

that Miss Elizabeth ...," where it is unclear where the quotation ends.

Hyphenation has been made consistent. Spelling has been retained as it

appears in the original publication, except as follows:

Page 2, doubless changed to doubtless

Page 5, perserverance changed to perseverance

Page 15, behavioiur changed to behaviour

Page 17, selon les regles changed to selon les regles

Page 23, pretentions changed to pretensions

Page 33, bienseances changed to bienseances

Page 33, "made some some" extra some removed

Page 36, waltze changed to waltz, twice

Page 38, father-in-aw changed to father-in-law

Page 45, decieving changed to deceiving

Page 52, "when we have have" extra have removed

Page 53, himsef changed to himself

Page 54, Mailtland changed to Maitland

Page 54, solider changed to soldier

Page 55, peculiuar changed to peculiar

Page 55, ambiguous check/cheek in original text changed to cheek

Page 62, digusted changed to disgusted

Page 79, nonchalance changed to nonchalance

Page 83, disappoiont changed to disappoint

Page 92, Mohametan changed to Mahometan

Page 99, curiousity changed to curiosity

Page 104, intellignce changed to intelligence

"she was was abroad" changed to "she was abroad"

Page 111, forebearance changed to forbearance

Page 117, "blot upon her frame" frame changed to fame

Page 135, teachery changed to treachery

Page 137, mainly changed to manly

Page 138, dictatated changed to dictated

Page 144, sounder changed to sounded

Page 147, publishng changed to publishing

Page 158, assunder changed to asunder

Page 162, upn changed to upon

Page 167, instrusion changed to intrusion

Page 173, "than when I could no longer repay..." than changed to that

Page 175, forebore changed to forbore

Page 180, forseen changed to foreseen

Page 186, incresased changed to increased

Page 193, sine qua non changed to sine qua non

Page 201, efficious changed to efficacious

Page 225, "(set) our immediately" our changed to out

Page 227, substracted changed to subtracted

Page 229, amd changed to and

Page 232, selon les regles changed to selon les regles

Page 242, reununciation changed to renunciation

Page 244, endeavourd changed to endeavoured

Page 253, stablity changed to stability

Page 259, nonchalance changed to nonchalance

Page 260, eleve changed to eleve

Page 266, acquaitnance changed to acquaintance

Page 266, "many a time I though," though changed to thought

Page 266, fetes changed to fetes

Page 268, (footnote 14) consecreted changed to consecrated

Page 270, sbroke changed to broke

Page 277, apearance changed to appearance

Page 303, relaxd changed to relaxed

Page 304, arrangmement changed to arrangement

Page 308, posssession changed to possession

Page 310, impertience changed to impertinence

Page 318, involuntairly changed to involuntarily

Page 322, recollet changed to recollect

Page 341, "valour of _out_ fathers." out changed to our

Page 342, grimvisaged changed to grim-visaged

Page 352, ptarmagans changed to ptarmigans

Page 358, ptarmagan changed to ptarmigan

Page 363, unfatihful changed to unfaithful

Page 366, foward changed to forward

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