Having acquainted her young relative with the prospective arrangements
she had made for her, Lady Vaughan composed herself to sleep, and
Hyacinth quietly left the room. She dared not stop to think until she
was outside the door, in the free, fresh air; the walls of the old house
seemed to stifle her. Her young soul was awakened, but it rose in a hot
glow of rebellion against this new device of fate. She to be taken
abroad and offered meekly to this gentleman! If he liked her they were
to be married; if not, with the sense of failure upon her, she would
have to return to the Chase. The thought was intolerable.
Was this the promised romance of her life? "It is not fair," cried the
girl passionately, as she paced the narrow garden paths--"it is not
just. Everything has liberty, love, and happiness--why should not I? The
birds love each other, the flowers are happy in the sun--why must I live
without love or happiness, or brightness? I protest against my fate."
Were all the thousand tender and beautiful longings of her life to be
thus rudely treated? Was all the poetry and romance she had dreamed of
to end in "cultivating a kindly liking" and a diplomatic marriage? Oh,
no, it could not be! She shed passionate tears. She prayed, in her wild
fashion, passionate prayers. Better for her a thousand times had she
been commonplace, unromantic, prosaic--better that the flush of youth
and the sweet longings of life had not been hers. Then a break came in
the clouds--a change that was to be most fatal to her. One of the
families with whom Sir Arthur and Lady Vaughan were most intimate was
that of old Colonel Lennox, of Oakton Park.
Colonel Lennox and his wife were both old; but one day they received a
letter from Mrs. Lennox, their sister-in-law, who resided in London,
saying how very pleased she should be to pay them a visit with her son
Claude. Mrs. Lennox was very rich. Claude was heir to a large fortune.
Still she thought Oakton Park would be a handsome addition, and it would
be just as well to cultivate the affection of the childless uncle.
Mrs. Lennox and Claude came to Oakton. Solemn dinner-parties, at which
the young man with difficulty concealed his annoyance, were given in
their honor, and at one of these entertainments Hyacinth and Claude met.
He fell in love with her.
In those days she was beautiful as the fairest dream of poet or artist.
In the fresh spring-tide of her young loveliness, she was something to
see and remember. She was tall, her figure slender and girlish, full of
graceful lines and curves that gave promise of magnificent womanhood.
Her face was of oval shape; the features were exquisite, the eyes of the
darkest blue, with long lashes; her lips were fresh and sweet; her mouth
was the most beautiful feature in her beautiful face--it was sweet and
sensitive, yet at times slightly scornful; the teeth were white and
regular; the chin was faultless, with a pretty dimple in it.
It was not merely the physical beauty, the exquisite features and
glorious coloring that attracted; there were poetry, eloquence, and
passion within these. Looking at her, one knew instinctively that she
was not of the common order--that something of the poet and genius was
there. Her brow was fair and rounded at the temples, giving a great
expression of ideality to her face; her fair hair, soft and shining,
seemed to crown the graceful head like a golden diadem.
Claude Lennox, in his half-selfish, half-chivalrous way, fell in love
with her. He said something to Lady Vaughan about her one day, and she
gave him to understand that her granddaughter was engaged. She did not
tell him to whom, nor did she say much about it; but the few words
piqued Claude, who had never been thwarted in his life.
On the first day they met, his mother had warned him not to fall in love
with the beautiful girl, who might be an heiress or might have
nothing--to remember that in his position he could marry whom he would,
and not to throw himself away.
Lady Vaughan, too, on her side, seemed much disposed to forbid him even
to speak to Hyacinth. If he proposed calling at Queen's Chase, she
either deferred his visit or took good care that Hyacinth should not be
in the way; and all this she did, as she believed, unperceived. It was
evident that Sir Arthur also was not pleased; though the old gentleman
was too courtly and polished to betray his feeling openly in the matter.
He did not like Claude Lennox, and the young man felt it. One day he met
the two young people together in a sequestered part of the Chase
grounds, and though he did not utter his displeasure, the stern, angry
look that he gave Claude, fully betrayed it. Hyacinth, whose glance had
fallen to the ground in a sudden accession of shyness that she scarce
understood, at her grandfather's approach, did not see his set, stern
face. Nor did Sir Arthur speak to her of the matter. On talking it over
to Lady Vaughan, the two old people concluded that a show of open
opposition might awaken a favor toward Claude in the young girl's heart
to which it was yet a stranger, and they contented themselves with
throwing every possible obstacle in the way of the young people's
intercourse. This was, in this case, mistaken policy. If the old
gentleman had spoken, he might have saved Hyacinth from unspeakable
misery, and his proud old name from the painful shadow of disgrace that
a childish folly was to bring upon it. The young girl stood greatly in
awe of her grandfather, but she respected him, and in a way loved him,
through her fears. And she was now being led, step by step, into folly,
through her own ignorance of its nature.
Claude Lennox was piqued. He was young, rich, and handsome; he had been
eagerly sought by fashionable mothers. He knew that he could marry Lady
Constance Granville any day that he liked; he had more than a suspicion
that the pretty, coquettish, fashionable young widow, Mrs. Delamere,
liked him; Lady Crown Harley had almost offered him her daughter. Was he
to be defied and set at naught in this way--he, a Lennox, come of a race
who had never failed in love or war? No, it should never be; he would
win Hyacinth in spite of all. He disarmed suspicion by ceasing, when
they met, to pay her any particular attention. His lady-mother
congratulated herself; she retired to London, leaving her son at Oakton
Park. He said his visit was so pleasant that he could not bring it to a
close. The colonel, delighted with his nephew, entreated him to stay,
and Claude said, smiling to himself, that he had a fair field and all to
himself.
His love for Hyacinth was half-selfish, half-chivalrous. It was pique
and something like resentment that made him first of all determined to
woo her, but he soon became so interested, that he believed his life
depended on winning her. She was so different from other girls. She was
child, poet, and woman. She had the brightest and fairest of fancies.
She spoke as he had never heard any one else speak--as though her lips
had been touched with divine fire.
Fortune favored him. He went one morning to the Chase, and found Sir
Arthur and Lady Vaughan at home--alone. He did not mention Hyacinth's
name; but as he was going out, he gave one of the footmen a sovereign
and learned from him that Miss Vaughan was walking alone in the wood.
She had complained of headache, and "my lady" had sent her out into the
fresh air.
Of course he followed her and found her. He made such good use of the
hour that succeeded, that she promised to meet him again. He was very
careful to keep her attention fixed on the poetry of such meetings; he
never hinted at the wrong of concealment, the dishonor of any thing
clandestine, the beauty of obedience; he talked to her only of love, and
of how he loved her and longed to make her his wife. She was very young,
very impressionable, very romantic; he succeeded completely in blinding
her to the harm and wrong she was doing; but he could not win from her
any acknowledgement of her love. She enjoyed the break in the dull
monotony of her life. She enjoyed the excitement of having to find time
to meet him. She liked listening to him; she liked to hear him praise
her beauty, and rave about his devotion to her. But did she love him?
Not if what the poets wrote was true--not if love be such as they
describe.