"I pr'ythee hear me speak!"
Richard III.
{William Shakespeare, "Richard III", IV.iv.180}
HAZLEHURST had gone out with his friends, and continued walking
on the piazza, first with Charlie and then with Ellsworth; at
length Mrs. Stanley called him from the window to say good-bye,
as she did not expect to see him again before the cruise; the
other ladies also wished him a pleasant excursion at the same
moment.
"Good fishing and no musquitoes {sic}--which, I take it, is all
that is desirable on such an occasion," said Mrs. Creighton,
smiling brightly but carelessly, as she offered her hand.
"Thank you; I suppose you have no commands for Cape Cod?"
"None at all, I believe, unless you can bring us the true Yankee
receipt for chowder, which Mr. Stryker was explaining this
evening."
"You will be off so early to-morrow that we shall scarcely see
you, Harry," said Miss Wyllys. "You must come back to us,
however, and fall into the old habit of considering Wyllys-Roof
as home, whenever you please," she added kindly.
Harry's thanks were expressed with feeling.
"And in the mean time I hope you will have a pleasant cruise,"
said Elinor. "Fair winds and better prospects attend you!"--and
as she raised her eyes, Harry observed they had filled with tears
when she made this allusion to his difficulties. Perhaps
Ellsworth made the same remark, and appreciated her kindness; for
when Elinor turned to wish him good-night we strongly suspect
that his countenance said so; there could be no doubt at least,
that she blushed at the time, though pale but a moment before.
After the ladies had gone, Mr. Wyllys and Ellsworth went off
together, and Harry returned to the piazza.
It was perhaps inconsiderate in Hazlehurst to continue walking so
late, for the sound of his footsteps fell regularly on the
stillness of the night, long after the family had gone to rest,
and may possibly have disturbed some of his friends; but many
busy thoughts of the past and the future crowded on his mind,
while pacing that familiar spot, the piazza of Wyllys-Roof. It is
time that these thoughts should be partially revealed to the
reader, and for that purpose we must pause a moment, in order to
look backward.
Long since, Harry's heart had warmed again towards his old
playfellow, Elinor. As soon as the first novelty of a life at Rio
had worn off, Harry, whose affections were strong, began to miss
his old friends; the more so, since Mr. Henley, although his
principles and talents entirely commanded his secretary's esteem,
was not a pleasant companion in every-day life. Hazlehurst soon
began to contrast the minister's formal, old bachelor
establishment with the pleasant house of his friend Ellsworth,
where Mrs. Creighton did the honours charmingly, and with the
cheerful home of his brother, where his sister-in-law always
received him kindly: still oftener be compared the cold, stately
atmosphere which seemed to fill Mr. Henley's house, with the
pleasant, genial spirit which prevailed at Wyllys-Roof, where
everything excellent wore so amiable an aspect. Until lately he
had always been so closely connected with the family there, that
he accused himself of not having done full justice to all their
worth. He took a pleasure in dwelling on Mr. Wyllys's high moral
character, so happily tempered by the benevolence of cheerful old
age; he remembered the quiet, unpretending virtues of Miss
Wyllys, always mingled with unvarying kindness to himself; and
could he forget Elinor, whose whole character was so engaging;
uniting strength of principle and intelligence, with a
disposition so lovely, so endearing? A place in this family had
been his, his for life, and he had trifled with it, rejected it;
worse than that--well he knew that the best place in Elinor's
generous heart had once been wholly his; he had applied for it,
he had won it; and what return had he made for her warmest
affections? He had trifled with her; the world said he had jilted
her, jilted the true-hearted Elinor, his friend and companion
from childhood! Knowing her as well as he did, he had treated her
as if she were a mere ball-room coquette; he had forgotten her as
soon as if it had been a mere holiday fancy of a boy of fifteen.
He had been completely infatuated, dazzled, blinded by a
beautiful face. That it was sheer infatuation was now evident;
for, absent from both Elinor and Jane, all feeling for the latter
seemed to have vanished like a dream. It is said that love
without hope cannot live: the question must be settled by those
who have suffered most frequently from the wounds of Cupid; but
it seems evident, at least from Harry's experience, that love
which has fed plentifully upon hopes for some months, when
suddenly put upon a change of diet, and receiving a large dose of
mortification to boot, falls immediately into a rapid decline.
The recollection of his fancy for Jane was now unpleasant under
every aspect, but where it was connected with Elinor he soon
began to consider it as particularly painful. He regretted that
he had engaged Elinor in the hasty, boyish manner he had done,
before going abroad; had he not taken this step, the momentary
mortification of a refusal by Jane would have been the only evil;
Elinor would not have suffered, and all might have gone well.
Gradually the idea gained upon him, that it was not impossible to
repair the past. His conduct had been unpardonable, no doubt;
yet, perhaps it might be forgiven. But even if Elinor could
forget his inexcusable fickleness, would her friends ever consent
to risk her future peace with one who had so recklessly trifled
with her already? Mr. Wyllys had been deeply indignant at his
conduct; his whole manner had changed, there had been a cold
civility in it when they had met, which Harry had felt keenly--it
amounted almost to contempt. Miss Wyllys, too, was no longer the
kind, indulgent Aunt Agnes of his boyhood; there was a very
decided coldness and reserve in her whole expression, which it
seemed all but impossible to overcome. He wished, however, that
he had it in his power to make advances towards a reconciliation;
he was prepared for merited coldness at first, but he would
willingly submit to it as a just penance, if he could but hope
eventually to regain his position with Elinor. Such a wife as
Elinor would be, was worth a serious struggle to obtain. Then, at
other moments, this idea appeared preposterous to him; how could
the Wyllyses ever forgive him after so keen an insult, so cruel a
blow? No, it was a dream; he would not indulge in it any longer;
he would not think of marrying; he would turn out an old bachelor
diplomatist, like Mr. Henley. It is not to be supposed that Mrs.
Creighton was entirely forgotten in these reveries of Harry's,
which formed occasional interludes to his diplomatic labours
while at Rio. On the contrary she was remembered quite
frequently; and every one who knew her must always think of the
pretty widow as a charming woman; clever, graceful, gay, and
well-bred. Nor had Hazlehurst been blind to her peculiarly
flattering manner towards himself. The lady was his friend
Ellsworth's sister, which was another claim; she was generally
admired too, and this alone, with some men, would have given her
a decided advantage: since we are revealing Harry's foibles,
however, we must do him the justice to say, that he was not one
of the class referred to. When he liked, he liked honestly, for
good reasons of his own. At the time he left home with Mr.
Henley, he had not been able to decide entirely to his own
satisfaction, whether Mrs. Creighton really had any partiality
for him or not; he waited with a little interest and a little
curiosity, to know what she would do after he left Philadelphia.
News soon reached him that the lady was gay and charming as ever,
much admired, and taking much pleasure in admiration, as usual.
He had known Mrs. Creighton from a girl; she was a year or two
older than himself, and had been a married woman while he was
still a boy, and he had been long aware of her reputation as a
coquette; this had no doubt put him on his guard. As had
occasionally remarked her conduct himself; and having been so
intimate with women of very different character--his brother's
wife, Miss Wyllys, and Elinor--he knew very well that all women
were not coquettes; he had received a higher standard of female
delicacy and female truth than many young men. So long,
therefore, as he believed Mrs. Creighton a decided flirt, he was
in little danger from her: the lady, however, was no common
coquette--cleverness, tact, good taste, gave her very great
advantages; she was generally admired, and Hazlehurst expected
daily to hear that she was married.
He had become very tired of Rio Janeiro, and very desirous of
returning home, long before Mr. Henley was recalled to exchange
the court of Brazil for that of St. Petersburgh. Sincere respect
for Mr. Henley had alone kept him at Rio; and when he arrived at
Norfolk, he was still undecided whether he should continue in the
legation or not. He found that all his friends were at Saratoga,
and he hastened there; he was anxious to see the Wyllyses,
anxious to see Elinor, and yet he dreaded the first meeting--he
had already determined to be guided entirely in his future steps
by their manner towards himself; if they did not absolutely shun
him, he would make an effort for a complete reconciliation. He
knew Elinor was unmarried; he had never heard of any engagement,
and he might then hope to regain all he had lost. He arrived, he
was received kindly, and the sight of Elinor's plain face did not
change his determination; on the contrary, he found her just what
he remembered her, just what he had always known her to
be--everything that was naturally feminine and amiable. But if
Elinor were still herself, Harry soon found that her position had
very materially altered of late; she was now an heiress, it
seemed. What a contemptible interpretation might be placed on his
advances under such circumstances! Then came the discovery of Mr.
Ellsworth's views and hopes; and his friend was evidently
sanguine of success. Thus everything was changed; he was
compelled to remain in the back-ground, to avoid carefully any
interference with his friend.
There appeared no reason to doubt that Elinor would, ere long,
marry Ellsworth; she herself certainly liked him, and her friends
very evidently favoured his suit. On the other hand, Mrs.
Creighton seemed particularly well pleased with his own return;
she was certainly very charming, and it was by no means an
unpleasant task to play cavalier to his friend's sister. Still he
looked on with great interest, as Ellsworth pursued his
courtship; and he often found himself making observations upon
Elinor's movements. "Now she will do this"--"I am sure she thinks
that"--"I know her better than Ellsworth"--"She can't endure
Stryker"--and other remarks of the kind, which kept his attention
fixed upon his old playfellow; the more closely he observed her
the more he saw to love and admire; for their former long
intimacy had given him a key to her character, and greater
knowledge of the world enabled him fully to appreciate her purity
of principle, her native grace and modesty, the generous tone of
her mind, the unaffected sweetness of her disposition. It
appeared strange and unpleasant to him, that he must now draw
back and see her engrossed by Ellsworth, when she had so long
been his own favourite companion; still he had no right to
complain, it was his own fault that matters were so much changed.
As for Mrs. Creighton, Harry could not satisfy himself with
regard to her real feelings; there were times when he thought she
was attached to him, but just as it began to appear clear that
she was not merely coquetting, just as he began to inquire if he
could ever offer himself to a woman whom he admired very much,
but whom he did not entirely respect, the pretty widow would run
off; apparently in spite of herself, into some very evident
flirtation with Stryker, with de Vaux, with Mr. Wyllys, in fact
with any man who came in her way. Generally he felt relieved by
these caprices, since they left perfect liberty of action to
himself; occasionally he was vexed with her coquetry, vexed with
himself for admiring her in spite of it all. Had Harry never
known Mrs. Creighton previously, he would doubtless have fallen
very decidedly in love with her in a short time; but he had known
her too long, and half mistrusted her; had he never known Elinor
so thoroughly, he would not have understood Mrs. Creighton. He
involuntarily compared the two together; both were particularly
clever, well-bred, and graceful; but Harry felt that one was
ingenuous, amiable, and natural, while he knew that the other was
worldly, bright, but cold, and interested in all her views and
actions. Elinor's charm lay in the perfect confidence one reposed
in the firmness of her principles, the strength of her
affections, softened as they were by feminine grace of mind and
person. Mrs. Creighton fascinated by the brilliant gloss of the
world, the perfection of art, inspired by the natural instincts
of a clever, educated coquette. There had been moments when
Hazlehurst was all but deceived into believing himself unjust
towards Mrs. Creighton, so charmingly piquant, so gracefully
flattering was her manner; but he owed his eventual escape to the
only talisman which can ever save a young man, or an old one
either, from the wiles of a pretty, artful coquette; he carried
about with him the reflection of a purer model of womanly virtue,
one gradually formed from boyhood upon Elinor's mould, and which
at last had entirely filled his mind and his heart.
Since the commencement of the Stanley suit, Hazlehurst had become
quite disgusted with Mrs. Creighton's conduct; art may reach a
great way, but it can never cover the whole ground, and the
pretty widow involuntarily betrayed too many variations of
manner, graduated by Harry's varying prospects; his eyes were
completely opened; he was ashamed of himself for having been
half-persuaded that she was attached to him. How different had
been Elinor's conduct! she had shown throughout a warm,
unwavering interest in his difficulties, always more frankly
expressed in his least encouraging moments; indeed she had
sometimes blushed, from the fear that her sympathy might he
mistaken for something more than friendly regard for her kinsman.
Harry saw it all; he understood the conduct of both, and he felt
Elinor's kindness deeply; he was no longer ungrateful, and he
longed to tell her so. True, she would ere long become his
friend's wife, but might he not, under the circumstances, be
permitted first to declare his feelings? It would, perhaps, be
only a just atonement for the past--only what was due to Elinor.
Harry tried to persuade himself into this view of the case, as he
looked up towards her window, invoking a blessing on her gentle
head.
Hazlehurst's reflections, while on the piazza, had commenced with
his pecuniary difficulties, and the consequences of his late
defeat, but they gradually centered on Elinor in a very
lover-like manner, much in the shape we have given them. But at
length the moon went down behind the wood, and those whose rooms
were on that side of the house found that the sound of his
footsteps had ceased; and nothing farther disturbed the stillness
of the night.
"Did you see the Petrel this morning, grandpapa?" said Elinor, as
she was pouring out the coffee at the breakfast-table.
"No, I did not, my child; I took it for granted they were off
before sun-rise, and did not look for them."
"They were behind their time; they were in sight from my window
about an hour since."
"Some of the youngsters have been lazy, I suppose; I hope Harry
was not the delinquent."
"I heard him pass my door quite early," observed Miss Agnes.
"When I saw them," said Elinor, "they had drawn off from the
wharf, and were lying in the river, as if they were waiting for
something that had been forgotten; the boat looked beautifully,
for there was very little air, and she lay motionless on the
water, with her sails half-furled."
"Perhaps they stopped for Mr. Hubbard to make a sketch," said
Ellsworth to Elinor.
"Hardly, I should think; time and tide, you know; wait for no
man--not even to be sketched."
"But Hazlehurst told me his friend Hubbard had promised to
immortalize the Petrel and her crew by a picture; perhaps he
chose the moment of departure; you say she appeared to great
advantage then."
"I should think he would prefer waiting for some more striking
moment. Who knows what adventures they may meet with! Mr. de Vaux
expects to win a race; perhaps they may catch a whale, or see the
sea-serpent."
"No doubt Mr. Stryker would try to catch the monster, if they
were to meet with him; his fishing ambition is boundless," said
Mrs. Creighton.
"But there is no fashionable apparatus for catching
sea-serpents," observed Elinor; "and Mr. Stryker's ambition is
all fashionable."
"Stryker is not much of an Izaak Walton, certainly," remarked
Ellsworth. "He calls it murder, to catch a trout with a common
rod and a natural fly. He will scarcely be the man to bring in
the sea-serpent; he would go after it though, in a moment, if a
regular European sportsman were to propose it to him."
"I almost wonder we have not yet had an English yacht over here,
whale-hunting, or sea-serpent-hunting," said Mrs. Creighton;
"they are so fond of novelty and wild-goose chasing of any kind."
"It would make a lion of a dandy, at once," said Ellsworth, "if
he could catch the sea-serpent."
{"lion" = social celebrity}
"A single fin would be glory enough for one lion," said Elinor;
remember how many yards there are of him."
"If Stryker should catch a slice of the serpent, no doubt he will
throw it into his chowder-pot, and add it to the receipt," said
Mr. Wyllys.
"Well, Miss Wyllys, I think you and I might engage to eat all the
monsters he catches, as Beatrice did Benedict's slain," said Mrs.
Creighton.
{"Beatrice and Benedict..." = characters in Shakespeare's play
"Much Ado about Nothing"}
"Do you intend to make up with Stryker, a la Beatrice?" asked the
lady's brother. "It is some time now that you have carried on the
war of wit with him."
"No, indeed; I have no such intentions. I leave him entirely to
Miss Wyllys; all but his chowder, which I like now and then,"
said the lady, carelessly.
"I am sorry you will not be here, Mrs. Creighton, for the pic-nic
to the ladies, which de Vaux is to give when he comes back," said
Mr. Wyllys; "Mr. Stryker will give us a fine chowder, no doubt."
"Thank you, sir; I should enjoy the party exceedingly. I must not
think too much of it, or I might be tempted to break my
engagement with the Ramsays."
"Have you really decided to go so soon?--I was in hopes we should
be able to keep you much longer," said Miss Wyllys.
"I should be delighted to stay; but in addition to my visit to
the Ramsays, who are going to town expressly for me, I must also
pick up my little niece."
Miss Wyllys then made some inquiries about Mr. Ellsworth's little
girl.
"She was very well and happy, with her cousins, when I heard from
my eldest sister, a day or two since," he replied. "She has been
with me very little this summer; I hope we shall be able to make
some pleasanter arrangement for the future," he added, with a
half-glance at Elinor.
"My brother has a very poor opinion of my abilities, Miss Wyllys;
because I have no children of my own, he fancies that I cannot
manage his little girl."
"I am much obliged to you, Josephine, for what you have done for
her, as you very well know."
"Oh, yes; you are much obliged to me, and so forth; but you think
Mary is in better hands with Mrs. Ellis, and so do I; I cannot
keep the little thing in very good order, I acknowledge."
"It must be difficult not to spoil her, Mrs. Creighton," remarked
Mr. Wyllys. "She is a very pretty and engaging child--just the
size and age for a pet."
"That is the misfortune; she is so pretty that Frank thinks I
make a little doll of her; that I dress her too much. I believe
he thinks I wear too many flowers and ribbons myself; he has
become very fastidious in his taste about such matters lately; he
wishes his daughter to dress with elegant simplicity; now I have
a decided fancy for elegant ornament."
"He must be very bold, Mrs. Creighton, if he proposes any
alteration to you."
"I agree with you, entirely," said the lady, laughing; "for the
last year or two I have been even less successful in suiting him
than of old. He seems to have some very superior model in his
mind's eye. But it is rather annoying to have one's taste in
dress criticised, after having been accustomed to hear it
commended and consulted, ever since I was fifteen."
"You must tolerate my less brilliant notions for the sake of
variety," said her brother, smiling.
"I shall hope to make over Mary's wardrobe to some other
direction, before she grows up," said Mrs. Creighton; "for you
and I would certainly quarrel over it."
The party rose from table. Elinor felt a touch of nervousness
come upon her, as she remarked that Mr. Ellsworth seemed to be
watching her movements; while his face had worn rather a
pre-occupied expression all the morning, seeming to threaten
something important.
The day was very pleasant; and as Mr. Wyllys had some business at
certain mills on Chewattan Lake, he proposed a ride on horseback
to his friends, offering a seat in his old-fashioned chair to any
lady who chose to take it.
{"chair" = a light, one-horse carriage}
Mrs. Creighton accepted the offer very readily.
"I have not been in any carriage so rustic and farmer-like these
twenty years," she said.
"I shall be happy to drive you, if you can be satisfied with a
sober old whip like myself, and a sober old pony like Timo."
"It is settled then; you ride I suppose, Miss Wyllys."
Elinor assented; Mary Van Alstyne was also to go on horseback.
Mr. Ellsworth thought that he would have preferred escorting one
lady instead of two on that occasion. He seemed destined that
morning to discover, that a lover's course is not only impeded by
important obstacles, but often obstructed by things trifling in
themselves. Before the chair and horses appeared at the door,
there was an arrival from Longbridge. Mr. Taylor and his
daughter, Miss Emma, had come from New York the previous evening,
and now appeared at Wyllys-Roof; the merchant had come over with
the double object of blessing his grandchild, and taking his
share in a speculation then going on in the neighbourhood. The
Taylors had been asked to Wyllys-Roof, at any time when they
wished to see Jane, and they had now come for twenty-four hours,
in accordance with the invitation. At first Mr. Ellsworth
supposed the ride to Chewattan Lake must be abandoned, but it was
only deferred for an hour. Miss Emma Taylor, ever ready for an
enterprise of liveliness, had no sooner embraced her
sister-in-law, and learned that some of the family had proposed
riding, than she immediately expressed a great desire to join
them. Mary Van Alstyne very readily gave up her horse and habit
to the young lady; and Mr. Ellsworth walked over to Broadlawn, to
invite Bob de Vaux, a boy of sixteen, to be her especial escort.
He thought this a very clever manoeuvre of his own. While these
arrangements were going on, and the Taylors were taking some
refreshment, Mr. Taylor had found time to express his regrets at
the result of the law-suit.
"I was much disposed, however, to anticipate such a verdict," he
observed; "Mr. Clapp is a very talented lawyer for so young a
man; this cause, which has attracted so much attention, will
probably make his fortune at the bar. But I was fearful, sir,
from the beginning, that neither yourself nor your friend, Mr.
Hazlehurst, was fully aware of Mr. Clapp's abilities."
"I do not conceive, however, that the cause was won by Mr.
Clapp's legal acumen," observed Mr. Wyllys, drily.
"Perhaps not; still, I understand that he succeeded in making out
a very strong case in behalf of his client."
"Of that there is no doubt."
"And the less foundation he had to work on, the greater his
talents must appear," said Mr. Taylor, with a look, which
expressed both admiration for Mr. Clapp, and the suspicion that
he had been assisting an impostor.
"The kind of talent you refer to is not of a very enviable
character, I think," said Mr. Wyllys.
"I don't know that, my dear sir," added Mr. Taylor, as he drank
off a glass of wine; "it is a talent which has gained a fine
property at least. I regret, however, that my friend, Mr.
Hazlehurst, should have suffered so heavy a loss."
Mr. Wyllys bowed; and well aware that his own views of the case
and those of Mr. Taylor would not agree, he changed the
conversation.
"You will find your old place much changed," observed Miss Wyllys
to the merchant.
"Yes, madam; I understand considerable alterations have been made
at my former mansion. I had almost forgotten this morning that
the estate was no longer mine, and was half-inclined to enter the
gate as we passed it."
"I am delighted, pa, that it is not yours any longer!" exclaimed
Miss Emma, with a liveliness which accorded particularly ill with
her deep mourning-dress. "We shall have ten times more fun at
Rockaway; Colonnade Manor was the stupidest place in creation; we
were often a whole day without seeing a beau!"
At length, Miss Emma having declared herself more than
sufficiently rested, she put on the habit; and the chair and
horses were brought to the door. Mr. Taylor was to set out
shortly after, in another direction, to go over the manufactory
in which he was about to become interested.
All agreed that the day was delightful. There was a fine air, the
dust had been laid by a shower, and as the road led through
several woods, they had not too much sun. For a while the four
equestrians kept together, and common-place matters only were
talked over; the Petrel was not forgotten. Miss Emma Taylor
declared she would have gone along, if she had been on the spot
when they sailed. Bob de Vaux said his brother Hubert had offered
to take him, but he did not care to go; he had rather ride than
sail, any day.
"Here's for a gallop then!" exclaimed the young lady, and off the
two set at a rapid pace.
"How does that flirtation come on?" asked Miss Emma, when they
lessened their pace at some distance in advance of the rest of
the party.
"All settled, I believe," replied the youth.
"What, actually engaged? I have been quite exercised about all
your doings over here, this summer; you must have had a lively
time, three or four flirtations all going on at once. But, do you
know I am bent on spiting Mr. Ellsworth this morning. He meant to
have a tete-a-tete, I know, and only asked YOU just to get rid of
ME. But he shan't have a moment's peace to pay for it; let's turn
round and go back again at full speed."
Bob de Vaux had not the least objections; he liked motion and
mischief almost as much as did the lively belle; they both
enjoyed the joke exceedingly, and succeeded in provoking Mr.
Ellsworth not a little. Miss Emma and her companion were in high
glee at their success; they would first ride half a mile by the
side of the others, then gallop off to a distance, and at a
signal from the young lady, suddenly facing about they would
return, just in time, as Miss Emma thought, to cut short any
tender speech.
"That young lady seems to have gone twice over every foot of the
road," innocently observed Mr. Wyllys, little aware of her
object.
"What a restless creature it is!" replied Mrs. Creighton; "she
must worry her horse as much as she annoys her rational
companions."
"Miss Taylor is a perfect rattle," remarked Mr. Ellsworth. "Quite
inferior to her sister, Mrs. Hunter, I should say."
{"a rattle" = a chatterbox}
"Her excess of spirits will wear itself out one of these days, I
dare say," replied Elinor.
"It is to be hoped so," said the gentleman, drily.
When they reached the lake they dismounted, and passed half an
hour at a farm-house, to rest, and lunch upon iced milk and
dew-berries, which the farmer's wife kindly offered them. Mrs.
Creighton professed herself rather disappointed with Chewattan
Lake; the shores were quite low, there was only one good hill,
and one pretty, projecting point, with a fine group of elms
standing in graceful relief against the sky; she thought Mr.
Hubbard's painting had flattered nature. Mr. Ellsworth would not
allow that Charlie ever flattered; but remarked that it was his
peculiar merit, to throw a charm about the simplest water scene;
and his last view of Chewattan Lake was certainly one of his
happiest pictures.
{"dew-berries" = blackberries; "happiest" = most successful}
On their way home, Miss Emma and her companion again commenced
their quizzing system. Towards the end of the ride, however, the
young lady relaxed a little in her vigilance; when they reached a
turnpike-gate, about two miles from Wyllys-Roof, she suddenly
proposed to Bob de Vaux to run a race with Elinor and Mr.
Ellsworth.
"What do you say to it, Miss Wyllys?"
"Excuse me; I had much rather not."
"Oh, but you don't know what I mean. Now, you and Mr. Ellsworth
go cantering and trotting along, in such a sober, Darby and Joan
fashion, that I am sure Mr. de Vaux and I can turn off here, take
this by-road, which you know comes in nearly opposite your gate,
and although it is twice as far round, I bet you a pair of gloves
we are at Wyllys-Roof before you."
{"Darby and Joan fashion" = like an old married couple}
"Done!" exclaimed Mr. Ellsworth, delighted with the idea; and off
the young lady gallopped {sic} with her companion.
It is not to be supposed that the gentleman allowed the half-hour
that followed to pass unimproved. He could speak at last, and he
admired Elinor too sincerely, not to express himself in terms
both warm and respectful. Although Elinor had been for some time
fully prepared for this declaration, yet she did not receive it
without betraying feeling and embarrassment. Emotion in woman, at
such moments, or in connexion with similar subjects, is generally
traced to one cause alone; and yet half the time it should rather
be attributed to some other source. Anxiety, modesty, mere
nervousness, or even vexation at this very misinterpretation,
often raise the colour, and make the voice falter. Elinor had
fully made up her mind, and she felt that a frank explanation was
due to Mr. Ellsworth, but her regard for him was too sincere not
to make the moment a painful one to her. He was rejected; but
rejected with so much consideration, so much modesty and feeling,
so much good sense, that the very act only increased his regret.
He was much disappointed, for he had been a hopeful suitor.
Elinor had always liked him, and he had thought her manner
encouraging; Mr. Wyllys and Miss Agnes had not concealed their
approbation; and Mrs. Creighton had often told him she had no
doubt of his success. He was more than mortified, however, by the
refusal, he was pained. Elinor repeated assurances of respect and
friendship, and regret that she felt herself unable to return his
regard as it deserved. She even alluded to his generosity in
overlooking her want of personal attractions; she said she had,
on that account, been slow to believe that he had any serious
object in view. At the time he had first proposed, through her
grandfather, she herself had wished to prevent his going any
farther, but her friends had desired her to defer the answer; he
himself had begged her to do so, and named the time fixed--she
had reluctantly consented to this arrangement; and, although the
more she knew of Mr. Ellsworth, the more highly she esteemed and
respected him, yet the result had been what she first foresaw;
she could not conscientiously offer him the full attachment he
had a right to expect from a wife.
Mr. Ellsworth rode on in silence for a moment.
"Is it then true, Miss Wyllys, that I must give up all idea of
obtaining a more indulgent hearing, at some future day?"
"Judge for yourself if I am capricious, Mr. Ellsworth. Do not
imagine that I have lightly rejected the regard of a man whom I
esteem so highly as yourself. I could scarcely name another in my
whole acquaintance, for whom I should have hesitated so long;
but--" Elinor paused, suddenly became very red, and then deadly
pale.
"But--what would you say, Miss Wyllys?--go on, I entreat!"
exclaimed Mr. Ellsworth.
It was a moment before Elinor rallied. She then continued, in a
low voice, and in an agitated, hesitating manner:
"Mr. Ellsworth, I shall speak with perfect frankness; your
kindness and forbearance deserve it. When I consented to wait so
long before giving you a final answer, it was chiefly that I
might discover if I could regain entire command over feelings
which have not always been my own. I am afraid you are not aware
of this. The feeling itself to which I allude is changed; but be
it weakness or not, it has left traces for life. I was willing to
make an experiment in favour of one who deserved the full
confidence of my friends and myself; but the trial has not
succeeded; if I know myself, it can never succeed--I shall never
marry."
And then after a moment's silence she gently continued, in a
calmer tone:
"But you will soon forget all this, I trust. You will find
elsewhere some one more worthy of you; one who can better repay
your kindness."
Mr. Ellsworth chafed a little under this suggestion; though not
so much as a more passionate man might have done.
"To forget one of so much womanly excellence as yourself, Miss
Wyllys, is not the easy task you seem to suppose."
Elinor could have sighed and smiled as the thought recurred to
her, that Harry had not found it very difficult to forget her.
They had now reached the gate, on their way home, and turning
towards her companion as they entered, she said:
"I hope, indeed, you will always remember that you have very
sincere friends at Wyllys-Roof, Mr. Ellsworth; believe me,
friends capable of appreciating your merits, and aware of what is
their due."
Mr. Ellsworth thanked her, but he looked very evidently
disturbed. When they reached the piazza he helped Elinor from her
horse, perhaps more carefully than usual; Miss Emma Taylor and
her cavalier had already arrived; and the young lady immediately
attacked Mr. Ellsworth, bidding him remember his bet. When Mrs.
Creighton stepped from the chair, she looked for her brother and
Elinor, a little curious to discover if anything decisive had
passed, but both had already entered the house.
Mr. Wyllys learned in the course of the day, from Ellsworth
himself, that he had been rejected; he was very much
disappointed, and more disposed to find fault with Elinor than he
had ever been before.
"I am afraid you have not acted wisely, Elinor," said her
grandfather; words more like a reproof than any that Elinor could
remember to have heard fall from his lips, addressed to herself.
Miss Agnes also evidently regretted her niece's decision; but she
said nothing on the subject. As for Mrs. Creighton, she thought
it all easy to be understood.
"You may say what you please, Frank, about Miss Wyllys, but you
will never persuade me she is not a coquette."
But this Mr. Ellsworth would by no means allow.
Elinor laid her head on her pillow that night with the unpleasant
reflection, that four persons under the same roof were
reproaching her for the step she had taken that day. But she
herself knew that she had acted conscientiously.