Shame to me, I had nearly forgotten to ask after the welfare of my
family. I addressed some agitated questions to Captain Walton, who told
me all were well.
He had always been kind in his manner to me, and could readily guess the
meaning of my melancholy face. My arm trembled on his as we proceeded
to the breakfast-room together--that same room where Clarence Fairfax
and I had parted in a crowd.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I would fain pass over much that followed. I received a letter from my
father. He had heard somewhat of Clarence Fairfax's "conspicuous
attentions to me." He feared Lady Amabel had been "too indulgent."
Fairfax was the very person to "charm a young girl's senses," but he
hoped they were not overcome by a fine form and a bewitching manner. My
dear father thought too well of me to suppose that I was enthralled by
this lively, dashing, handsome young aide-de-camp, who was, to say
truth, at the feet of a lady whose reputation had suffered from her
carelessness. Every one indeed spoke of Fairfax as a male coquette.
You see, dear friend, my father would not assume that I was "seriously
enthralled;" he was not with me to judge for himself. You shall read
his letter some day. You will see that though he tried to treat this
matter lightly, it weighed upon his mind; he was bent on having me home
again. "My darling," he says, at the close of this letter, "write to me
at once; you have never mentioned this affair, which others speak of so
carelessly, and your silence makes me anxious. In my anxiety I asked
your sister if you alluded to Captain Fairfax in your communications
with her, but she tells me no. My love, I long to have you with me
again. Captain Walton admitted to me that you were looking ill. He is
most kind, and enters into my anxieties. He was unwilling, I could see,
to commit Fairfax. In a word, dearest Eleanor, he has more respect for
Fairfax than that infatuated young man has for himself..."
Then followed directions for my return, under the care of friends about
to leave Cape Town for the eastward settlements. They delayed their
departure, and I was detained, to Lady Amabel's satisfaction, for she
had become attached to me. But, albeit firm in her attachments, she was
a person, as you may have discovered, ever open to fresh impressions.
She was as unsuspicious of evil as I was.
Mr Lyle had made his way, and stood in high favour when Sir Adrian
arrived.
He was presented, and joined the circle at dinner that day; he took his
station at my side--I was sadly abstracted--he was in his most agreeable
vein, and drew me from myself, as usual.
I know, dear friend, you will wonder that the letter I received from
home was from _my father_. I had always belonged more to him than my
mother. Marion, you know, was the favourite in her babyhood; and it was
my fault, perhaps, as well as my misfortune, that I was always reserved
to my mother. I well recollect her once expressing impatience at that
reserve; but I never could shake it off; it exists, as you know, to this
day. A sensitive child, once repelled, seldom makes another advance,
and I have told you that I entered the world just as the best-beloved
one was fading from it. My mother had less thought naturally for me
than him. I turned to my father--his arms were open, and I rested
there.
You have been a member of our family circle for some weeks now;
otherwise, how could I bring myself to cast a shade of reproach on my
mother, for whom you have so high a respect? Ah! _you_ will not set it
down to wrong account.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
You see I linger in my wretched history.
I look again into my journal. 16th March. "Clarence has returned; at
times dejected; at times excited; he is totally unlike his former self.
We are at Newlands again. All these scenes and objects associated with
happier hours! They bring but bitterness to me. I never approach the
fountain of Egeria... When I hear the sound of horses' feet in those
long avenues, I fly--I am ill--I cannot rest--and oh, this crowd! how it
oppresses me! How I long for a friend to whom I could impart my sorrow.
Oh, for advice!--Dear father! would that I were at home and by thy
side. Mother, you would take your stricken daughter to your arms.
Though weak and ill, how strong within me is the power of suffering..."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
You say, Major Frankfort, that you love me; I believe you; you will love
me ever, for you will ever pity me; and so, knowing what your heart will
feel on reading this, I will not _shed_ all my miserable thoughts of
this period upon paper.
All this time Lyle was intent upon his purpose. He _felt_ my fate was
in his hands.
He took up a new position.
I was sitting one morning in Lady Amabel's boudoir. A servant ushered
in Mr Lyle. He started back; "It was Lady Amabel he came to see," he
said.