"Miss H--," said I, "can it be that you show so much emotion, merely at
parting with a friend?"
"Ah!" she replied, "I have thought of you as a friend; but such a one as
I never knew before. My life has been lonely. We are here, as you
know, shut out from all intercourse with the world. We can form but few
friendships. Yours has been to me like some unknown joy of life. You
have been my only thought, since I first saw you."
"You must try to forget me--to forget that we have ever met; and I will
try to forget you. _I should_ only think of you as a friend!"
For a second she stood gazing upon me in silence. Then tremblingly put
the question:
"You love another?"
"I do, although I love without hope. It is one who can never be mine--
one I may, perhaps, never see again. She and I were playmates when
young. I fancied she loved me; but she did not: she has married
another."
"How very strange! To me it seems impossible!"
The artless innocence of these observations, proved the purity of the
mind from which they could emanate.
"And yet," continued she, "for one who has acted in that manner, you can
still feel love?"
"Alas! such is my unfortunate fate."
"Oh! sir, if you but knew the heart you are casting away from you!--its
truth--its devotion and constancy--you would never leave me; but stay
here and be happy. You would learn to love me. You could not hate one,
who loves you as I can; and will to the end of my life!"
I could make no reply to this speech. Sweet as it might have been to
the ears of some, I listened to it only with pain. I scarce knew either
what to say, or do; and I was only relieved, from my painful
embarrassment, when our steps brought us back to the house.
I loved Lenore for what she had been; and regarded her now as lost--as
dead; yet I determined to remain true to her. My affections were not
wandering fancies--finding a home wherever circumstances might offer it.
I could "love but one."
Jessie H--was beautiful, innocent, and affectionate; but all these
qualities could not conquer my love for Lenore; and honour commanded me
to depart speedily from her presence.
Shortly after entering the house, she retired to her own room; and I saw
no more of her for the night.
Before doing so myself, I took leave of Mr and Mrs H--, telling them
that I must be off by daybreak in the morning.
My companions, Vane and Cannon, declared their unwillingness to
accompany me; and used every argument to dissuade me from such an abrupt
departure; but their arguments were only thrown away upon me. I had
formed the determination; and nothing could have influenced me to
abandon it. On becoming assured of this, they at length consented to go
along with me.
Mr and Mrs H--did not urge me very strenuously to remain; and I
believe that their silent eloquence could have been explained: by the
supposition that it arose, from a regard for the happiness of their
daughter.
We took our departure from the station at an early hour of the morning--
before any of the household--except some of the domestics--were astir.
This manner of leaving may appear unceremonious; and would be so, in
many parts of the world. But it is nothing unusual in Australia--where
early setting out upon a journey is almost the universal fashion.
I did not care for the company of Vane and Cannon, on the way back to
Melbourne. I would much rather have dispensed with it: as I wished to
be alone. I wanted an opportunity for reflection--such as that journey
would have afforded me. The society of Jessie H--had revived many
memories within me. It had rekindled my passion for Lenore--
strengthened my regrets for the past, and my despair for the future.
As I walked at a rapid pace, my companions fell behind--until, at
length, I lost of them altogether.
Before the hour of noon, I had reached the city of Melbourne--sorry to
think I had ever left it, to go upon an excursion, that had ended only
in adding to the discontent already too firmly established within my
bosom.
Volume Two, Chapter XXVIII.