CHAPTER XVII.
Circumstance will always have its finger in the pie with the best-laidschemes; but it does not always happen that thereby the pie isspoiled. On the contrary, circumstance is sometimes a very powerfulauxiliary, and it happened so in the present instance with thearrangements of Mrs. Hazleton. Before that lady could bring any partof her scheme for introducing Emily to the man whom she intended todrive her into taking as a husband, to bear, the introduction hadalready taken place, as we have seen, by an accident.
It was likely, indeed, to go no further; for Emily thought over whathad occurred, before she gave way to her native kindness of heart. Sheremembered how tenacious all country gentlemen of that day were oftheir sporting rights, and especially of what she had often heard herfather declare, that he looked upon any body who took his game off hisproperty, according to every principle of equity and justice, as nobetter than a common robber.
"If the only excuse be that it is more exposed to depredation thanother property," said Sir Philip, "it only shows that the plunderer ofit is a coward as well as a villain, and should be punished the moreseverely." Such, and many such speeches she had heard from her fatherat various times, and it became a case of conscience, which puzzledthe poor girl much, whether she ought or ought not to have promisednot to mention what had occurred in the park. She loved noconcealment, and nothing would have induced her to tell a falsehood;but she knew that if she mentioned the facts, especially while theyoung man whom she had seen crossing the park with a gun lay woundedat the cottage, great evil might have resulted; and though shesomewhat reproached herself for rashly giving her word, she would notbreak 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 herfather'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; butyet there was a resemblance, she thought, to some one she knew and wasattached to. It could not be to her father, she said to herself, andyet her father's face recurred to her mind more frequently than anyother when she thought of that of the young man she had seen; and fromthat fact a sort of prepossession in the youth's favor took possessionof her, making her long to know who he really was.
For some days Emily did not go near the cottage, but at length sheventured on the road which passed it--not without a hope, indeed, thatshe might meet one of the old people who tenanted it, and have anopportunity of inquiring after his health--but certainly not, as somegood-natured reader may suppose, with any expectation of seeing himherself. As she approached, however, she perceived him sitting on abench at the cottage-door, and, by a natural impulse, she turned atonce into another path, which led back by a way nearly as short to thehall. The young man instantly rose, and followed her, addressing herby name, in a voice still weak, in truth, but too loud for her not tohear, or to affect not to hear.
She paused, rather provoked than otherwise, and slightly inclined herhead, while the young man approached, with every appearance ofrespect, and thanked her for the assistance she had rendered him.
He had had his lesson in the mean time, and he played his part notamiss. All coarse swagger, all vulgar assumption was gone from hismanner; and referring himself to some words he had spoken when lastthey had met, he said: "Pardon me, Miss Hastings, for what I said somedays ago, which might seem both strange and mysterious, and forpressing to see you again; but at that time I was faint with loss ofblood, and knew not how this might end. I wished to tell you somethingI thought you ought to hear; but now I am better; and I will find amore 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 ofimportance; and any thing of so much moment as you seem to think thisis, would, of course, be told by me to him."
"I think not," replied the other, with a mysterious smile; "but ofthat you will judge when you have heard all I have to say. Your fatheris the last person to whom I would mention it myself, because Ibelieve, notwithstanding all his ability, he is the last person whowould judge sanely of it, as he would of most other matters; but, ofcourse, 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 couldventure to detain you here. I only wished to return you my bestthanks, and assure you of my gratitude;" and bowing low, he left herto pursue her way homeward.
Emily went on musing. No woman's breast is without curiosity--nor anyman's, either--and she asked herself what could be the meaning of thestranger's words, at least a dozen times. What could he have to tellher, 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 thepity which is akin to love. On the contrary, she liked him less thanthe first time she saw him. There was a certain degree of cunning inhis mysterious smile, a look of self-confidence, almost of triumph inhis face, which, in spite of his respectful demeanor, did not pleaseher.
Emily's father was absent from home at this time; but he returned twoor three days after this last interview, and remarked that hisdaughter was unusually grave. To her, and to all that affected her inany way, his eyes were always open, though he often failed tocomprehend that which he observed. Lady Hastings, too, had noticedEmily's unusual gravity, and as she had no clue to that which made herthoughtful, she concluded that the solitude of the country had adepressing influence upon her spirits, as it frequently had upon herown and she determined to speak to her husband upon the matter. To himshe represented that the place was very dull; that they had but fewvisitors; that even Mr. Marlow had not called for a week; and thatEmily really required some variety of scene and amusement.
She reasoned well according to her notions, and though Sir Philipcould not quite comprehend them, though he abhorred great cities, andloved the country, she had made some impression at least byreiteration, when suddenly a letter arrived from Mrs. Hazleton,petitioning that Emily might be permitted to spend a few days withher.
"I am quite alone," she said, "and not very well (she never was betterin her life), and I propose next week to make some excursions to allthe beautiful and interesting spots in the neighborhood. But you know,dear Lady Hastings, there is but small pleasure in such expeditionswhen they must be solitary; but with such a mind as that of your dearEmily for my companion, every object will possess a double interest."
The reader has perceived that the letter was addressed to LadyHastings; but it was written for the eye of Sir Philip, and to him itwas shown. Lady Hastings observed, as she put the note into herhusband's hand, that it would be much better to go to London. Thechange from their own house to Mrs. Hazleton's was not enough to doEmily any good; and that, as to these expeditions to neighboringplaces, she had always found them the dullest things imaginable.
Sir Philip thought differently, however. He had been brought to thepoint of believing that Emily did want change, but not to theconviction that London would afford the best change for her. Heinquired of Emily, however, which she would like best, a visit of aweek to Mrs. Hazleton's, or a short visit to the metropolis. Much tohis satisfaction, Emily decided at once in favor of the former, andMrs. Hazleton's letter was answered, accepting her invitation.
The day before Emily went, Mr. Marlow spent nearly two hours with herand her father in the sort of musy, wandering conversation which is sodelightful to imaginative minds. He paid Emily herself no marked orparticular attention; but he never suffered her to doubt that evenwhile talking with her father, he was fully conscious of her presence,and pleased with it. Sometimes his conversation was addressed to herdirectly, and when it was not, by a word or look he would invite herto join in, and listened to her words as if they were very sweet tohis ear.
She loved to listen to him, however, better than to speak herself, andhe contrived to please and interest
her in all he said, gently movingall 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 couldnot have done better with a mind like that of Emily Hastings.
He heard of her proposed visit to Mrs. Hazleton with pleasure, andexpressed it. "I am very glad to hear you are to be with her," hesaid, "for I do not think Mrs. Hazleton is well. She has lost herusual spirits, and has been very grave and thoughtful when I have seenher lately."
"Oh, if I can cheer and soothe her," cried Emily eagerly, "howdelightful my visit will be to me. Mrs. Hazleton says in her letterthat she is unwell; and that decided me to go to her, rather than toLondon."
"To London!" exclaimed Mr. Marlow, "I had no idea that you proposedsuch 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 andbeautiful flowers from the country; but I always see that first theybecome dull and dingy with the smoke and heavy air, and then witheraway and perish; and often in gay parties, I have thought that I sawin the young and beautiful around me the same dulling influence, thesame withering, both of the body and the heart."
Sir Philip Hastings smiled pleasantly, and assured his young friendthat he had no desire or intention of going to the capital except forone month in the winter, and Emily looked up brightly, saying, "For mypart, I only wish that even then I could be left behind. When last Iwas 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 thecountry upon it as I drove through the streets with mamma."
At length Emily set out in the heavy family coach, with her maid andSir Philip for her escort. Progression was slow in those days comparedwith our own, when a man can get as much event into fifty years asMethuselah did into a thousand. The journey took three hours at theleast; but it seemed short to Emily, for at the end of the first hourthey were overtaken by Mr. Marlow on horseback, and he rode along withthem to the gate of Mrs. Hazleton's house. He was an admirablehorseman, for he had not only a good but a graceful seat, and hishandsome figure and fine gentlemanly carriage never appeared togreater advantage than when he did his best to be a centaur. The slowprogress of the lumbering vehicle might have been of someinconvenience, but his horse was trained to canter to a walk when hepleased, and, leaning to the window of the carriage, and sometimesresting his hand upon it, he contrived to carry on the conversationwith those within almost as easily as in a drawing-room.
Just as the carriage was approaching the gate, Marlow said: "I think Ishall not go in with you Sir Philip for I have a little businessfarther on, and I have ridden more slowly than I thought;" but beforethe sentence was well concluded, the gates of the park were opened bythe porter, and Mrs. Hazleton herself appeared within, leaning on thearm of her maid. She had calculated well the period of Emily'sarrival, and had gone out to the gate for the purpose of giving her anextremely hospitable welcome. Probably, had she not hated her aswarmly and sincerely as she did, she would have stayed at home; ourattention is ever doubtful.
But what were Mrs. Hazleton's feelings when she saw Mr. Marlow ridingby the side of the carriage? I will not attempt to describe them; butfor one instant a strange dark cloud passed over her beautiful face.It was banished in an instant; but not before Marlow had remarked boththe expression itself and the sudden glance of the lady's eyes fromhim to Emily. For the first time a doubt, a suspicion, a something hedid not like to fathom, came over his mind; and he resolved to watch.Neither Emily nor her father perceived that look, and as the nextmoment the beautiful face was once more as bright as ever, they feltpleased with her kind eagerness to meet them; and alighting from thecarriage, 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 fromwhich she could not do what she would--banish all bitterness. "Isuppose I owe the pleasure of your visit to that which you yourselffeel in escorting a fair lady."
"I must not, I fear, pretend to such gallantry," replied Marlow. "Iovertook the carriage accidentally as I was riding to Mr. CorneliusBrown's; and to say the truth, I did not intend to come in, for I amsomewhat late."
"Cold comfort for my vanity," replied the lady, "that you would nothave 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 didnot 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 charmingthat I cannot resist its influence when once within the spell, evenfor the sake of the Englishman's god--Business."
"A man always succeeds in drawing some flattery for woman's ear out ofthe least flattering conduct," answered Mrs. Hazleton.
The conversation then took another turn; and after walking with therest 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 Philipalso returned, and Emily was left with a woman who felt at her heartthat 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 forone moment from her fair guest: there were no reveries, no absence ofmind; and Emily--poor Emily--thought her more charming than ever.Nevertheless, while speaking upon many subjects, and brightly andintelligently upon all, there was an under-current of thought going onunceasingly in Mrs. Hazleton's mind, different from that upon thesurface. She was trying to read Marlow's conduct towards Emily--tojudge whether he loved her or not. She asked herself whether hishaving escorted her to that house was in reality purely accidental,and she wished that she could have seen them together but for a fewmoments longer, though every moment had been a dagger to her heart.Nay, she did more: she strove by many a dexterous turn of theconversation, to lure out her fair unconscious guest's inmostthoughts--to induce her, not to tell all, for that she knew washopeless, but to betray all. Emily, however, happily for herself, wasunconscious; she knew not that there was any thing to betray.Fortunately, most fortunately, she knew not what was in her ownbreast; or perhaps I should say, knew not what it meant. Her answerswere all simple, natural and true; and plain candor, as often happens,disappointed art.
Mrs. Hazleton retired for the night with the conviction that whatevermight be Marlow's feelings towards Emily, Emily was not in love withMarlow; and that was something gained.
"No, no," she said, with a pride in her own discernment, "a woman whoknows something of the world can never be long deceived in regard toanother woman's heart." She should have added, "except by itssimplicity."
"Now," she continued, mentally, "to-morrow for the first great step.If this youth can but demean himself wisely, and will follow theadvice I have given him, he has a fair field to act in. He seemsprompt and ready enough: he is assuredly handsome, and what betweenhis good looks, kind persuasion by others, and her father's dangerousposition, this girl methinks may be easily driven--or led into hisarms; and that stumbling-block removed. He will punish her enoughhereafter, or I am mistaken."
Punish her for what, Mrs. Hazleton?
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