LE plus grand defaut de la penetration n'est pas de n'aller
point jusqu'au but,--c'est de la passer.*--LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.
* "The greatest defect of penetration is not that of not going
just up to the point,--'tis the passing it."
EVELYN had looked forward to the ball at Knaresdean with feelings deeper
than those which usually inflame the fancy of a girl proud of her dress
and confident of her beauty. Whether or not she _loved_ Maltravers, in
the true acceptation of the word "love," it is certain that he had
acquired a most powerful command over her mind and imagination. She felt
the warmest interest in his welfare, the most anxious desire for his
esteem, the deepest regret at the thought of their estrangement. At
Knaresdean she should meet Maltravers,--in crowds, it is true; but still
she should meet him; she should see him towering superior above the herd;
she should hear him praised; she should mark him, the observed of all.
But there was another and a deeper source of joy within her. A letter
had been that morning received from Aubrey, in which he had announced his
arrival for the next day. The letter, though affectionate, was short.
Evelyn had been some months absent,--Lady Vargrave was anxious to make
arrangements for her return; but it was to be at her option whether she
would accompany the curate home. Now, besides her delight at seeing once
more the dear old man, and hearing from his lips that her mother was well
and happy, Evelyn hailed in his arrival the means of extricating herself
from her position with Lord Vargrave. She would confide in him her
increased repugnance to that union, he would confer with Lord Vargrave;
and then--and then--did there come once more the thought of Maltravers?
No! I fear it was not Maltravers who called forth that smile and that
sigh! Strange girl, you know not your own mind!--but few of us, at your
age, do.
In all the gayety of hope, in the pride of dress and half-conscious
loveliness, Evelyn went with a light step into Caroline's room. Miss
Merton had already dismissed her woman, and was seated by her
writing-table, leaning her cheek thoughtfully on her hand.
"Is it time to go?" said she, looking up. "Well, we shall put Papa, and
the coachman, and the horses, too, in excellent humour. How well you
look! Really, Evelyn, you are indeed beautiful!" and Caroline gazed with
honest but not unenvious admiration at the fairy form so rounded and yet
so delicate, and the face that seemed to blush at its own charms.
"I am sure I can return the flattery," said Evelyn, laughing bashfully.
"Oh, as for me, I am well enough in my way: and hereafter, I dare say, we
may be rival beauties. I hope we shall remain good friends, and rule the
world with divided empire. Do you not long for the stir, and excitement,
and ambition of London?---for ambition is open to us as to men!"
"No, indeed," replied Evelyn, smiling; "I could be ambitious, indeed; but
it would not be for myself, but for--"
"A husband, perhaps; well, you will have ample scope for such sympathy.
Lord Vargrave--"
"Lord Vargrave again?" and Evelyn's smile vanished, and she turned away.
"Ah," said Caroline, "I should have made Vargrave an excellent wife--pity
he does not think so! As it is, I must set up for myself and become a
_maitresse femme_. So you think I look well to-night? I am glad of
it--Lord Doltimore is one who will be guided by what other people say."
"You are not serious about Lord Doltimore?"
"Most sadly serious."
"Impossible! you could not speak so if you loved him."
"Loved him! no! but I intend to marry him."
Evelyn was revolted, but still incredulous.
"And you, too, will marry one whom you do not love--'tis our fate--"
"Never!"
"We shall see."
Evelyn's heart was damped, and her spirits fell.
"Tell me now," said Caroline, pressing on the wrung withers, "do you not
think this excitement, partial and provincial though it be--the sense of
beauty, the hope of conquest, the consciousness of power--better than the
dull monotony of the Devonshire cottage? Be honest--"
"No, no, indeed!" answered Evelyn, tearfully and passionately; "one hour
with my mother, one smile from her lips, were worth it all."
"And in your visions of marriage, you think then of nothing but roses and
doves,--love in a cottage!"
"Love _in a home_, no matter whether a palace or a cottage," returned
Evelyn.
"Home!" repeated Caroline, bitterly; "home,--home is the English synonym
for the French _ennui_. But I hear Papa on the stairs."
A ballroom--what a scene of commonplace! how hackneyed in novels! how
trite in ordinary life! and yet ballrooms have a character and a
sentiment of their own, for all tempers and all ages. Something in the
lights, the crowd, the music, conduces to stir up many of the thoughts
that belong to fancy and romance. It is a melancholy scene to men after
a certain age. It revives many of those lighter and more graceful images
connected with the wandering desires of youth,--shadows that crossed us,
and seemed love, but were not; having much of the grace and charm, but
none of the passion and the tragedy, of love. So many of our earliest
and gentlest recollections are connected with those chalked floors, and
that music painfully gay, and those quiet nooks and corners, where the
talk that hovers about the heart and does not touch it has been held.
Apart and unsympathizing in that austerer wisdom which comes to us after
deep passions have been excited, we see form after form chasing the
butterflies that dazzle us no longer among the flowers that have evermore
lost their fragrance.
Somehow or other, it is one of the scenes that remind us most forcibly of
the loss of youth! We are brought so closely in contact with the young
and with the short-lived pleasures that once pleased us, and have
forfeited all bloom. Happy the man who turns from "the tinkling cymbal"
and "the gallery of pictures," and can think of some watchful eye and
some kind heart _at home_; but those who have no home--and they are a
numerous tribe--never feel lonelier hermits or sadder moralists than in
such a crowd.
Maltravers leaned abstractedly against the wall, and some such
reflections, perhaps, passed within, as the plumes waved and the diamonds
glittered around him. Ever too proud to be vain, the _monstrari digito_
had not flattered even in the commencement of his career. And now he
heeded not the eyes that sought his look, nor the admiring murmur of lips
anxious to be overheard. Affluent, well-born, unmarried, and still in
the prime of life,--in the small circles of a province, Ernest Maltravers
would in himself have been an object of interest to the diplomacy of
mothers and daughters; and the false glare of reputation necessarily
deepened curiosity, and widened the range of speculators and observers.
Suddenly, however, a new object of attention excited new interest; new
whispers ran through the crowd, and these awakened Maltravers from his
revery. He looked up, and beheld all eyes fixed upon one form! His own
eyes encountered those of Evelyn Cameron!
It was the first time he had seen this beautiful young person in all the
_eclat_, pomp, and circumstance of her station, as the heiress of the
opulent Templeton,--the first time he had seen her the cynosure of
crowds, who, had her features been homely, would have admired the charms
of her fortune in her face. And now, as radiant with youth, and the
flush of excitement on her soft cheek, she met his eye, he said to
himself: "And could I have wished one so new to the world to have united
her lot with a man for whom all that to her is delight has grown
wearisome and stale? Could I have been justified in stealing her from
the admiration that, at her age and to her sex, has so sweet a flattery?
Or, on the other hand, could I have gone back to her years, and
sympathized with feelings that time has taught me to despise? Better as
it is."
Influenced by these thoughts, the greeting of Maltravers disappointed and
saddened Evelyn, she knew not why; it was constrained and grave.
"Does not Miss Cameron look well?" whispered Mrs. Merton, on whose arm
the heiress leaned. "You observe what a sensation she creates?"
Evelyn overheard, and blushed as she stole a glance at Maltravers. There
was something mournful in the admiration which spoke in his deep earnest
eyes.
"Everywhere," said he, calmly, and in the same tone, "everywhere Miss
Cameron appears, she must outshine all others." He turned to Evelyn, and
said with a smile, "You must learn to inure yourself to admiration; a
year or two hence, and you will not blush at your own gifts!"
"And you, too, contribute to spoil me!--fie!"
"Are you so easily spoiled? If I meet you hereafter, you will think my
compliments cold to the common language of others."
"You do not know me,--perhaps you never will."
"I am contented with the fair pages I have already read."
"Where is Lady Raby?" asked Mrs. Merton. "Oh, I see; Evelyn, my love, we
must present ourselves to our hostess."
The ladies moved on; and when Maltravers next caught a glance of Evelyn,
she was with Lady Raby, and Lord Vargrave also was by her side.
The whispers round him had grown louder.
"Very lovely indeed! so young, too! and she is really going to be married
to Lord Vargrave: so much older than she is,--quite a sacrifice!"
"Scarcely so. He is so agreeable, and still handsome. But are you sure
that the thing is settled?"
"Oh, yes. Lord Raby himself told me so. It will take place very soon."
"But do you know who her mother was? I cannot make out."
"Nothing particular. You know the late Lord Vargrave was a man of low
birth. I believe she was a widow of his own rank; she lives quite in
seclusion."
"How d' ye do, Mr. Maltravers? So glad to see you," said the quick,
shrill voice of Mrs. Hare. "Beautiful ball! Nobody does things like
Lord Raby; don't you dance?"
"No, madam."
"Oh, you young gentlemen are so _fine_ nowadays!" (Mrs. Hare, laying
stress on the word _young_, thought she had paid a very elegant
compliment, and ran on with increased complacency.)
"You are going to let Burleigh, I hear, to Lord Doltimore,--is it true?
No! really now, what stories people do tell. Elegant man, Lord
Doltimore! Is it true, that Miss Caroline is going to marry his
lordship? Great match! No scandal, I hope; you'll excuse _me_! Two
weddings on the _tapis_,--quite stirring for our stupid county. Lady
Vargrave and Lady Doltimore, two new peeresses. Which do you think is
the handsomer? Miss Merton is the taller, but there is something fierce
in her eyes. Don't you think so? By the by, I wish you joy,--you'll
excuse _me_."
"Wish me joy, madam?"
"Oh, you are so close. Mr. Hare says he shall support you. You will
have all the ladies with you. Well, I declare, Lord Vargrave is going to
dance. How old is he, do you think?"
Maltravers uttered an audible _pshaw_, and moved away; but his penance
was not over. Lord Vargrave, much as he disliked dancing, still thought
it wise to ask the fair hand of Evelyn; and Evelyn, also, could not
refuse.
And now, as the crowd gathered round the red ropes, Maltravers had to
undergo new exclamations at Evelyn's beauty and Vargrave's luck.
Impatiently he turned from the spot, with that gnawing sickness of the
heart which none but the jealous know. He longed to depart, yet dreaded
to do so. It was the last time he should see Evelyn, perhaps for years;
the last time he should see her as Miss Cameron!
He passed into another room, deserted by all save four old
gentlemen--Cleveland one of them--immersed in whist; and threw himself
upon an ottoman, placed in a recess by the oriel window. There, half
concealed by the draperies, he communed and reasoned with himself. His
heart was sad within him; he never felt before _how_ deeply and _how_
passionately he loved Evelyn; how firmly that love had fastened upon the
very core of his heart! Strange, indeed, it was in a girl so young, of
whom he had seen but little,--and that little in positions of such quiet
and ordinary interest,--to excite a passion so intense in a man who had
gone through strong emotions and stern trials! But all love is
unaccountable. The solitude in which Maltravers had lived, the absence
of all other excitement, perhaps had contributed largely to fan the
flame. And his affections had so long slept, and after long sleep the
passions wake with such giant strength! He felt now too well that the
last rose of life had bloomed for him; it was blighted in its birth, but
it could never be replaced. Henceforth, indeed, he should be alone, the
hopes of home were gone forever; and the other occupations of mind and
soul--literature, pleasure, ambition--were already forsworn at the very
age in which by most men they are most indulged!
O Youth! begin not thy career too soon, and let one passion succeed in
its due order to another; so that every season of life may have its
appropriate pursuit and charm!
The hours waned; still Maltravers stirred not; nor were his meditations
disturbed, except by occasional ejaculations from the four old gentlemen,
as between each deal they moralized over the caprices of the cards.
At length, close beside him he heard that voice, the lightest sound of
which could send the blood rushing through his veins; and from his
retreat he saw Caroline and Evelyn, seated close by.
"I beg pardon," said the former, in a low voice,--"I beg pardon, Evelyn,
for calling you away; but I longed to tell you. The die is cast. Lord
Doltimore has proposed, and I have accepted him! Alas, alas! I half
wish I could retract!"
"Dearest Caroline!" said the silver voice of Evelyn, "for Heaven's sake,
do not thus wantonly resolve on your own unhappiness! You wrong
yourself, Caroline! you do, indeed! You are not the vain ambitious
character you affect to be! Ah, what is it you require? Wealth? Are
you not my friend; am I not rich enough for both? Rank? What can it
give you to compensate for the misery of a union without love? Pray,
forgive me for speaking thus. Do not think me presumptuous, or romantic;
but, indeed, indeed, I know from my own heart what yours must undergo!"
Caroline pressed her friend's hand with emotion.
"You are a bad comforter, Evelyn. My mother, my father, will preach a
very different doctrine. I am foolish, indeed, to be so sad in obtaining
the very object I have sought! Poor Doltimore! he little knows the
nature, the feelings of her whom he thinks he has made the happiest of
her sex; he little knows--" Caroline paused, turned pale as death, and
then went rapidly on, "but you, Evelyn, _you_ will meet the same fate; we
shall bear it together."
"No! no! do not think so! Where I give my hand, there shall I give my
heart."
At this time Maltravers half rose, and sighed audibly.
"Hush!" said Caroline, in alarm. At the same moment, the whist-table
broke up, and Cleveland approached Maltravers.
"I am at your service," said he; "I know you will not stay the supper.
You will find me in the next room; I am just going to speak to Lord
Saxingham." The gallant old gentleman then paid a compliment to the
young ladies, and walked away.
"So you too are a deserter from the ballroom!" said Miss Merton to
Maltravers as she rose.
"I am not very well; but do not let me frighten you away."
"Oh, no! I hear the music; it is the last quadrille before supper: and
here is my fortunate partner looking for me."
"I have been everywhere in search of you," said Lord Doltimore, in an
accent of tender reproach: "come, we are almost too late now."
Caroline put her arm into Lord Doltimore's, who hurried her into the
ballroom.
Miss Cameron looked irresolute whether or not to follow, when Maltravers
seated himself beside her; and the paleness of his brow, and something
that bespoke pain in the compressed lip, went at once to her heart. In
her childlike tenderness, she would have given worlds for the sister's
privilege of sympathy and soothing. The room was now deserted; they were
alone.
The words that he had overheard from Evelyn's lips, "Where I shall give
my hand, there shall I give my heart," Maltravers interpreted but in one
sense,--"she loved her betrothed;" and strange as it may seem, at that
thought, which put the last seal upon his fate, selfish anguish was less
felt than deep compassion. So young, so courted, so tempted as she must
be--and with such a protector!--the cold, the unsympathizing, the
heartless Vargrave! She, too, whose feelings, so warm, ever trembled on
her lip and eye. Oh! when she awoke from her dream, and knew whom she
had loved, what might be her destiny, what her danger!
"Miss Cameron," said Maltravers, "let me for one moment detain you; I
will not trespass long. May I once, and for the last time, assume the
austere rights of friendship? I have seen much of life, Miss Cameron,
and my experience has been purchased dearly; and harsh and hermit-like as
I may have grown, I have not outlived such feelings as you are well
formed to excite. Nay,"--and Maltravers smiled sadly--"I am not about to
compliment or flatter, I speak not to you as the young to the young; the
difference of our years, that takes away sweetness from flattery, leaves
still sincerity to friendship. You have inspired me with a deep
interest,--deeper than I thought that living beauty could ever rouse in
me again! It may be that something in the tone of your voice, your
manner, a nameless grace that I cannot define, reminds me of one whom I
knew in youth,--one who had not your advantages of education, wealth,
birth; but to whom Nature was more kind than Fortune."
He paused a moment; and without looking towards Evelyn, thus renewed,--
"You are entering life under brilliant auspices. Ah, let me hope that
the noonday will keep the promise of the dawn! You are susceptible,
imaginative; do not demand too much, or dream too fondly. When you are
wedded, do not imagine that wedded life is exempt from its trials and its
cares; if you know yourself beloved--and beloved you must be--do not ask
from the busy and anxious spirit of man all which Romance promises and
Life but rarely yields. And oh!" continued Maltravers, with an absorbing
and earnest passion, that poured forth its language with almost
breathless rapidity,--"if ever your heart rebels, if ever it be
dissatisfied, fly the false sentiment as a sin! Thrown, as from your
rank you must be, on a world of a thousand perils, with no guide so
constant and so safe as your own innocence, make not that world too dear
a friend. Were it possible that your own home ever could be lonely or
unhappy, reflect that to woman the unhappiest home is happier than all
excitement abroad. You will have a thousand suitors hereafter: believe
that the asp lurks under the flatterer's tongue, and resolve, come what
may, to be contented with your lot. How many have I known, lovely and
pure as you, who have suffered the very affections--the very beauty of
their nature--to destroy them! Listen to me as a warner, as a brother,
as a pilot who has passed the seas on which your vessel is about to
launch. And ever, ever let me know, in whatever lands your name may
reach me, that one who has brought back to me all my faith in human
excellence, while the idol of our sex, is the glory of her own. Forgive
me this strange impertinence; my heart is full, and has overflowed. And
now, Miss Cameron--Evelyn Cameron--this is my last offence, and my last
farewell!"
He held out his hand, and involuntarily, unknowingly, she clasped it, as
if to detain him till she could summon words to reply. Suddenly he heard
Lord Vargrave's voice behind. The spell was broken; the next moment
Evelyn was alone, and the throng swept into the room towards the banquet,
and laughter and gay voices were heard, and Lord Vargrave was again by
Evelyn's side!