The next day Lady Ellinor called; but, to my great disappointment,
without Fanny.
Whether or not some joy at the incident of the previous night had served
to rejuvenate my uncle, I know not, but he looked to me ten years
younger when Lady Ellinor entered. How carefully the buttoned-up coat
was brushed; how new and glossy was the black stock! The poor Captain
was restored to his pride, and mighty proud he looked! with a glow on
his cheek and a fire in his eye, his head thrown back, and his whole air
composed, severe, Mavortian, and majestic, as if awaiting the charge of
the French cuirassiers at the head of his detachment.
My father, on the contrary, was as usual (till dinner, when he always
dressed punctiliously, out of respect to his Kitty), in his easy
morning-gown and slippers; and nothing but a certain compression in his
lips, which had lasted all the morning, evinced his anticipation of the
visit, or the emotion it caused him.
Lady Ellinor behaved beautifully. She could not conceal a certain
nervous trepidation when she first took the hand my father extended; and
in touching rebuke of the Captain's stately bow, she held out to him the
hand left disengaged, with a look which brought Roland at once to her
side. It was a desertion of his colors to which nothing, short of Ney's
shameful conduct at Napoleon's return from Elba, affords a parallel in
history. Then, without waiting for introduction, and before a word
indeed was said, Lady Ellinor came to my mother so cordially, so
caressingly; she threw into her smile, voice, manner, such winning
sweetness,--that I, intimately learned in my poor mother's simple,
loving heart, wondered how she refrained from throwing her arms round
Lady Ellinor's neck and kissing her outright. It must have been a great
conquest over herself not to do it! My turn came next; and talking to
me and about me soon set all parties at their ease,--at least
apparently.
What was said, I cannot remember; I do not think one of us could. But
an hour slipped away, and there was no gap in the conversation.
With curious interest, and a survey I strove to make impartial, I
compared Lady Ellinor with my mother; and I comprehended the fascination
which the high-born lady must, in their earlier youth, have exercised
over both brothers, so dis-similar to each other. For charm was the
characteristic of Lady Ellinor,--a charm indefinable. It was not the
mere grace of refined breeding, though that went a great way, it was a
charm that seemed to spring from natural sympathy. Whomsoever she
addressed, that person appeared for the moment to engage all her
attention, to interest her whole mind. She had a gift of conversation
very peculiar. She made what she said like a continuation of what was
said to her. She seemed as if she had entered into your thoughts, and
talked them aloud. Her mind was evidently cultivated with great care,
but she was perfectly void of pedantry. A hint, an allusion, sufficed
to show how much she knew, to one well instructed, without mortifying or
perplexing the ignorant. Yes, there probably was the only woman my
father had ever met who could be the companion to his mind, walk through
the garden of knowledge by his side, and trim the flowers while he
cleared the vistas. On the other hand, there was an inborn nobility in
Lady Ellinor's sentiments that must have struck the most susceptible
chord in Roland's nature, and the sentiments took eloquence from the
look, the mien, the sweet dignity of the very turn of the head. Yes,
she must have been a fitting Oriana to a young Amadis. It was not hard
to see that Lady Ellinor was ambitious, that she had a love of fame for
fame itself, that she was proud, that she set value (and that morbidly)
on the world's opinion. This was perceptible when she spoke of her
husband, even of her daughter. It seemed to me as if she valued the
intellect of the one, the beauty of the other, by the gauge of the
social distinction it conferred. She took measure of the gift as I was
taught at Dr. Herman's to take measure of the height of a tower,--by the
length of the shadow it cast upon the ground.
My dear father, with such a wife you would never have lived eighteen
years shivering on the edge of a Great Book!
My dear uncle, with such a wife you would never have been contented with
a cork leg and a Waterloo medal!
And I understand why Mr. Trevanion, "eager and ardent," as ye say he was
in youth, with a heart bent on the practical success of life, won the
hand of the heiress. Well, you see Mr. Trevanion has contrived not to
be happy! By the side of my listening, admiring mother, with her blue
eyes moist and her coral lips apart, Lady Ellinor looks faded. Was she
ever as pretty as my mother is now? Never. But she was much handsomer.
What delicacy in the outline, and yet how decided, in spite of the
delicacy! The eyebrow so defined; the profile slightly aquiline, so
clearly cut, with the curved nostril, which, if physiognomists are
right, shows sensibility so keen; and the classic lip that, but for the
neighboring dimple, would be so haughty. But wear and tear are in that
face. The nervous, excitable temper has helped the fret and cark of
ambitious life. My dear uncle, I know not yet your private life; but
'as for my father, I am sure that though he might have done more on
earth, he would have been less fit for heaven, if he had married Lady
Ellinor.
At last this visit--dreaded, I am sure, by three of the party--was over,
but not before I had promised to dine at the Trevanions' that day.
When we were again alone, my father threw off a long breath, and looking
round him cheerfully, said, "Since Pisistratus deserts us, let us
console ourselves for his absence; send for brother Jack, and all four
go down to Richmond to drink tea."
"Thank you, Austin," said Roland; "but I don't want it, I assure you."
"Upon your honor?" said my father, in a half whisper.
"Upon my honor."
"Nor I either. So, my dear Kitty, Roland and I will take a walk, and be
back in time to see if that young Anachronism looks as handsome as his
new London-made clothes will allow him. Properly speaking, he ought to
go with an apple in his hand, and a dove in his bosom. But now I think
of it, that was luckily not the fashion with the Athenians till the time
of Alcibiades!"