Circumstance will always have its finger in the pie with the best-laid
schemes; but it does not always happen that thereby the pie is
spoiled. On the contrary, circumstance is sometimes a very powerful
auxiliary, and it happened so in the present instance with the
arrangements of Mrs. Hazleton. Before that lady could bring any part
of her scheme for introducing Emily to the man whom she intended to
drive her into taking as a husband, to bear, the introduction had
already taken place, as we have seen, by an accident.
It was likely, indeed, to go no further; for Emily thought over what
had occurred, before she gave way to her native kindness of heart. She
remembered how tenacious all country gentlemen of that day were of
their sporting rights, and especially of what she had often heard her
father declare, that he looked upon any body who took his game off his
property, according to every principle of equity and justice, as no
better than a common robber.
"If the only excuse be that it is more exposed to depredation than
other property," said Sir Philip, "it only shows that the plunderer of
it is a coward as well as a villain, and should be punished the more
severely." Such, and many such speeches she had heard from her father
at various times, and it became a case of conscience, which puzzled
the poor girl much, whether she ought or ought not to have promised
not to mention what had occurred in the park. She loved no
concealment, and nothing would have induced her to tell a falsehood;
but she knew that if she mentioned the facts, especially while the
young man whom she had seen crossing the park with a gun lay wounded
at the cottage, great evil might have resulted; and though she
somewhat reproached herself for rashly giving her word, she would not
break it when given.
As to seeing him again, however--as to visiting him at the cottage,
even to inquire after his health, when he had refused all aid from her
father's house, that was an act she never dreamed of. His last words,
indeed, had puzzled her; and there was something in his face, too,
which set her fancy wandering. It was not exactly what she liked; but
yet there was a resemblance, she thought, to some one she knew and was
attached to. It could not be to her father, she said to herself, and
yet her father's face recurred to her mind more frequently than any
other when she thought of that of the young man she had seen; and from
that fact a sort of prepossession in the youth's favor took possession
of her, making her long to know who he really was.
For some days Emily did not go near the cottage, but at length she
ventured on the road which passed it--not without a hope, indeed, that
she might meet one of the old people who tenanted it, and have an
opportunity of inquiring after his health--but certainly not, as some
good-natured reader may suppose, with any expectation of seeing him
herself. As she approached, however, she perceived him sitting on a
bench at the cottage-door, and, by a natural impulse, she turned at
once into another path, which led back by a way nearly as short to the
hall. The young man instantly rose, and followed her, addressing her
by name, in a voice still weak, in truth, but too loud for her not to
hear, or to affect not to hear.
She paused, rather provoked than otherwise, and slightly inclined her
head, while the young man approached, with every appearance of
respect, and thanked her for the assistance she had rendered him.
He had had his lesson in the mean time, and he played his part not
amiss. All coarse swagger, all vulgar assumption was gone from his
manner; and referring himself to some words he had spoken when last
they had met, he said: "Pardon me, Miss Hastings, for what I said some
days ago, which might seem both strange and mysterious, and for
pressing to see you again; but at that time I was faint with loss of
blood, and knew not how this might end. I wished to tell you something
I thought you ought to hear; but now I am better; and I will find a
more fitting opportunity ere long."
"It will be better to say any thing you think fit to my father,"
replied Emily. "I am not accustomed to deal with any matters of
importance; and any thing of so much moment as you seem to think this
is, would, of course, be told by me to him."
"I think not," replied the other, with a mysterious smile; "but of
that you will judge when you have heard all I have to say. Your father
is the last person to whom I would mention it myself, because I
believe, notwithstanding all his ability, he is the last person who
would judge sanely of it, as he would of most other matters; but, of
course, you will speak of it or not, as you think proper. At present,"
he added, "I am too weak to attempt the detail, even if I could
venture to detain you here. I only wished to return you my best
thanks, and assure you of my gratitude;" and bowing low, he left her
to pursue her way homeward.
Emily went on musing. No woman's breast is without curiosity--nor any
man's, either--and she asked herself what could be the meaning of the
stranger's words, at least a dozen times. What could he have to tell
her, and why was there so much mystery? She did not like mystery,
however; and though she felt interested in the young man--felt pity,
in fact--yet it was by no means the interest that leads to, nor the
pity which is akin to love. On the contrary, she liked him less than
the first time she saw him. There was a certain degree of cunning in
his mysterious smile, a look of self-confidence, almost of triumph in
his face, which, in spite of his respectful demeanor, did not please
her.
Emily's father was absent from home at this time; but he returned two
or three days after this last interview, and remarked that his
daughter was unusually grave. To her, and to all that affected her in
any way, his eyes were always open, though he often failed to
comprehend that which he observed. Lady Hastings, too, had noticed
Emily's unusual gravity, and as she had no clue to that which made her
thoughtful, she concluded that the solitude of the country had a
depressing influence upon her spirits, as it frequently had upon her
own and she determined to speak to her husband upon the matter. To him
she represented that the place was very dull; that they had but few
visitors; that even Mr. Marlow had not called for a week; and that
Emily really required some variety of scene and amusement.
She reasoned well according to her notions, and though Sir Philip
could not quite comprehend them, though he abhorred great cities, and
loved the country, she had made some impression at least by
reiteration, when suddenly a letter arrived from Mrs. Hazleton,
petitioning that Emily might be permitted to spend a few days with
her.
"I am quite alone," she said, "and not very well (she never was better
in her life), and I propose next week to make some excursions to all
the beautiful and interesting spots in the neighborhood. But you know,
dear Lady Hastings, there is but small pleasure in such expeditions
when they must be solitary; but with such a mind as that of your dear
Emily for my companion, every object will possess a double interest."
The reader has perceived that the letter was addressed to Lady
Hastings; but it was written for the eye of Sir Philip, and to him it
was shown. Lady Hastings observed, as she put the note into her
husband's hand, that it would be much better to go to London. The
change from their own house to Mrs. Hazleton's was not enough to do
Emily any good; and that, as to these expeditions to neighboring
places, she had always found them the dullest things imaginable.
Sir Philip thought differently, however. He had been brought to the
point of believing that Emily did want change, but not to the
conviction that London would afford the best change for her. He
inquired of Emily, however, which she would like best, a visit of a
week to Mrs. Hazleton's, or a short visit to the metropolis. Much to
his satisfaction, Emily decided at once in favor of the former, and
Mrs. Hazleton's letter was answered, accepting her invitation.
The day before Emily went, Mr. Marlow spent nearly two hours with her
and her father in the sort of musy, wandering conversation which is so
delightful to imaginative minds. He paid Emily herself no marked or
particular attention; but he never suffered her to doubt that even
while talking with her father, he was fully conscious of her presence,
and pleased with it. Sometimes his conversation was addressed to her
directly, and when it was not, by a word or look he would invite her
to join in, and listened to her words as if they were very sweet to
his ear.
She loved to listen to him, however, better than to speak herself, and
he contrived to please and interest her in all he said, gently moving
all sorts of various feelings, sometimes making her smile gayly,
sometimes muse thoughtfully, and sometimes rendering her almost sad.
If he had been the most practiced love-maker in the world, he could
not have done better with a mind like that of Emily Hastings.
He heard of her proposed visit to Mrs. Hazleton with pleasure, and
expressed it. "I am very glad to hear you are to be with her," he
said, "for I do not think Mrs. Hazleton is well. She has lost her
usual spirits, and has been very grave and thoughtful when I have seen
her lately."
"Oh, if I can cheer and soothe her," cried Emily eagerly, "how
delightful my visit will be to me. Mrs. Hazleton says in her letter
that she is unwell; and that decided me to go to her, rather than to
London."
"To London!" exclaimed Mr. Marlow, "I had no idea that you proposed
such a journey. Oh, Sir Philip, do not take your daughter to London.
Friends of mine there are often in the habit of bringing in fresh and
beautiful flowers from the country; but I always see that first they
become dull and dingy with the smoke and heavy air, and then wither
away and perish; and often in gay parties, I have thought that I saw
in the young and beautiful around me the same dulling influence, the
same withering, both of the body and the heart."
Sir Philip Hastings smiled pleasantly, and assured his young friend
that he had no desire or intention of going to the capital except for
one month in the winter, and Emily looked up brightly, saying, "For my
part, I only wish that even then I could be left behind. When last I
was there, I was so tired of the blue velvet lining of the gilt
_vis-a-vis_, that I used to try and paint fancy pictures of the
country upon it as I drove through the streets with mamma."
At length Emily set out in the heavy family coach, with her maid and
Sir Philip for her escort. Progression was slow in those days compared
with our own, when a man can get as much event into fifty years as
Methuselah did into a thousand. The journey took three hours at the
least; but it seemed short to Emily, for at the end of the first hour
they were overtaken by Mr. Marlow on horseback, and he rode along with
them to the gate of Mrs. Hazleton's house. He was an admirable
horseman, for he had not only a good but a graceful seat, and his
handsome figure and fine gentlemanly carriage never appeared to
greater advantage than when he did his best to be a centaur. The slow
progress of the lumbering vehicle might have been of some
inconvenience, but his horse was trained to canter to a walk when he
pleased, and, leaning to the window of the carriage, and sometimes
resting his hand upon it, he contrived to carry on the conversation
with those within almost as easily as in a drawing-room.
Just as the carriage was approaching the gate, Marlow said: "I think I
shall not go in with you Sir Philip for I have a little business
farther on, and I have ridden more slowly than I thought;" but before
the sentence was well concluded, the gates of the park were opened by
the porter, and Mrs. Hazleton herself appeared within, leaning on the
arm of her maid. She had calculated well the period of Emily's
arrival, and had gone out to the gate for the purpose of giving her an
extremely hospitable welcome. Probably, had she not hated her as
warmly and sincerely as she did, she would have stayed at home; our
attention is ever doubtful.
But what were Mrs. Hazleton's feelings when she saw Mr. Marlow riding
by the side of the carriage? I will not attempt to describe them; but
for one instant a strange dark cloud passed over her beautiful face.
It was banished in an instant; but not before Marlow had remarked both
the expression itself and the sudden glance of the lady's eyes from
him to Emily. For the first time a doubt, a suspicion, a something he
did not like to fathom, came over his mind; and he resolved to watch.
Neither Emily nor her father perceived that look, and as the next
moment the beautiful face was once more as bright as ever, they felt
pleased with her kind eagerness to meet them; and alighting from the
carriage, walked on with her to the house, while Marlow, dismounted,
accompanied them, leading his horse.
"I am glad to see you, Mr. Marlow," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a tone from
which she could not do what she would--banish all bitterness. "I
suppose I owe the pleasure of your visit to that which you yourself
feel in escorting a fair lady."
"I must not, I fear, pretend to such gallantry," replied Marlow. "I
overtook the carriage accidentally as I was riding to Mr. Cornelius
Brown's; and to say the truth, I did not intend to come in, for I am
somewhat late."
"Cold comfort for my vanity," replied the lady, "that you would not
have paid me a visit unless you had met me at the gate."
She spoke in a tone rather of sadness than of anger; but Marlow did
not choose to perceive any thing serious in her words, and he replied,
laughing: "Nay, dear Mrs. Hazleton, you do not read the riddle aright.
It shows, when rightly interpreted, that your society is so charming
that I cannot resist its influence when once within the spell, even
for the sake of the Englishman's god--Business."
"A man always succeeds in drawing some flattery for woman's ear out of
the least flattering conduct," answered Mrs. Hazleton.
The conversation then took another turn; and after walking with the
rest of the party up to the house, Marlow again mounted and rode away.
As soon as the horses had obtained some food and repose, Sir Philip
also returned, and Emily was left with a woman who felt at her heart
that she could have poniarded her not an hour before.
But Mrs. Hazleton was all gentle sweetness, and calm, thoughtful,
dignified ease. She did not suffer her attention to to diverted for
one moment from her fair guest: there were no reveries, no absence of
mind; and Emily--poor Emily--thought her more charming than ever.
Nevertheless, while speaking upon many subjects, and brightly and
intelligently upon all, there was an under-current of thought going on
unceasingly in Mrs. Hazleton's mind, different from that upon the
surface. She was trying to read Marlow's conduct towards Emily--to
judge whether he loved her or not. She asked herself whether his
having escorted her to that house was in reality purely accidental,
and she wished that she could have seen them together but for a few
moments longer, though every moment had been a dagger to her heart.
Nay, she did more: she strove by many a dexterous turn of the
conversation, to lure out her fair unconscious guest's inmost
thoughts--to induce her, not to tell all, for that she knew was
hopeless, but to betray all. Emily, however, happily for herself, was
unconscious; she knew not that there was any thing to betray.
Fortunately, most fortunately, she knew not what was in her own
breast; or perhaps I should say, knew not what it meant. Her answers
were all simple, natural and true; and plain candor, as often happens,
disappointed art.
Mrs. Hazleton retired for the night with the conviction that whatever
might be Marlow's feelings towards Emily, Emily was not in love with
Marlow; and that was something gained.
"No, no," she said, with a pride in her own discernment, "a woman who
knows something of the world can never be long deceived in regard to
another woman's heart." She should have added, "except by its
simplicity."
"Now," she continued, mentally, "to-morrow for the first great step.
If this youth can but demean himself wisely, and will follow the
advice I have given him, he has a fair field to act in. He seems
prompt and ready enough: he is assuredly handsome, and what between
his good looks, kind persuasion by others, and her father's dangerous
position, this girl methinks may be easily driven--or led into his
arms; and that stumbling-block removed. He will punish her enough
hereafter, or I am mistaken."
Punish her for what, Mrs. Hazleton?