'Laura might have higher praise,' said Philip, 'for hers is beauty of countenance even more than of feature. If only--'
'If?' said Amy.
'Look round, Amy, and you will see many a face which speaks of intellect wasted, or, if cultivated, turned aside from its true purpose, like the double blossom, which bears leaves alone.'
'Ah! you forget you are talking to silly little Amy. I can't see all that. I had rather think people as happy and good as they look.'
'Keep your child-like temper as long as you can--all your life,' perhaps, for this is one of the points where it is folly to be wise.'
'Then you only meant things in general? Nothing about Laura?'
'Things in general,' repeated Philip; 'bright promises blighted or thrown away--'
But he spoke absently, and his eye was following Laura. Amy thought he was thinking of his sister, and was sorry for him. He spoke no more, but she did not regret it, for she could not moralize in such a scene, and the sight and the dancing were pleasure enough.
Guy, in the meantime, had met an Oxford acquaintance, who introduced him to his sisters--pretty girls--whose father Mr. Edmonstone knew, but who was rather out of the Hollywell visiting distance. They fell into conversation quickly, and the Miss Alstons asked him with some interest, 'Which was the pretty Miss Edmonstone?' Guy looked for the sisters, as if to make up his mind, for the fact was, that when he first knew Laura and Amy, the idea of criticising beauty had not entered his mind, and to compare them was quite a new notion. 'Nay,' said he at last, 'if you cannot discover for yourselves when they are both before your eyes, I will do nothing so invidious as to say which is the pretty one. I'll tell which is the eldest and which the youngest, but the rest you must decide for yourself.'
'I should like to know them,' said Miss Alston. 'Oh! they are both very nice-looking girls.'
'There, that is Laura--Miss Edmonstone,' said Guy, 'that tall young lady, with the beautiful hair and jessamine wreath.'
He spoke as if he was proud of her, and had a property in her. The tone did not escape Philip, who at that moment was close to them, with Amy on his arm; and, knowing the Alstons slightly, stopped and spoke, and introduced his cousin, Miss Amabel Edmonstone. At the same time Guy took one of the Miss Alstons away to get some tea.
'So you knew my cousin at Oxford?' said Philip, to the brother.
'Yes, slightly. What an amusing fellow he is!'
'There is something very bright, very unlike other people about him,' said Miss Alston.
'How does he get on? Is he liked?'
'Why, yes, I should say so, on the whole; but it is rather as my sister says, he is not like other people.'
'In what respect?'
'Oh I can hardly tell. He is a very pleasant person, but he ought to have been at school. He is a man of crotchets.'
'Hard-working?'
'Very; he makes everything give way to that. He is a capital companion when he is to be had, but he lives very much to himself. He is a man of one friend, and I don't see much of him.'
Another dance began, Mr. Alston went to look for his partner, Philip and Amy moved on in search of ice. 'Hum!' said Philip to himself, causing Amy to gaze up at him, but he was musing too intently for her to venture on a remark. She was thinking that she did not wonder that strangers deemed Guy crotchety, since he was so difficult to understand; and then she considered whether to take him to see King Charles, in the library, and concluded that she would wait, for she felt as if the martyr king's face would look on her too gravely to suit her present tone.
Philip helped her to ice, and brought her back to her mother's neighbourhood without many more words. He then stood thoughtful for some time, entered into conversation with one of the elder gentlemen, and, when that was interrupted, turned to talk to his aunt.
Lady Eveleen and her two cousins were for a moment together. 'What is the matter, Eva?' said Amy, seeing a sort of dissatisfaction on her bright face.
'The roc's egg?' said Laura, smiling. 'The queen of the evening can't be content--'
'No; you are the queen, if the one thing can make you so--the one thing wanting to me.'
'How absurd you are, Eva--when you say you are so afraid of him, too.'
'That is the very reason. I should get a better opinion of myself! Besides, there is nobody else so handsome. I declare I'll make a bold attempt.'
'Oh! you don't think of such a thing,' cried Laura, very much shocked.
'Never fear,' said Eveleen, 'faint heart, you know.' And with a nod, a flourish, of her bouquet, and an arch smile at her cousin's horror, she moved on, and presently they heard her exclaiming, gaily, 'Captain Morville, I really must scold you. You are setting a shocking example of laziness! Aunt Edmonstone, how can you encourage such proceedings! Indolence is the parent of vice, you know.'
Philip smiled just as much as the occasion required, and answered, 'I beg your pardon, I had forgotten my duty. I'll attend to my business better in future.' And turning to a small, shy damsel, who seldom met with a partner, he asked her to dance. Eveleen came back to Laura with a droll disappointed gesture. 'Insult to injury,' said she, disconsolately.
'Of course,' said Amy, 'he could not have thought you wanted to dance with him, or you would not have gone to stir him up.'
'Well, then, he was very obtuse.'
'Besides, you are engaged.'
'0 yes, to Mr. Thorndale! But who would be content with the squire when the knight disdains her?'
Mr. Thorndale came to claim Eveleen at that moment. It was the second time she had danced with him, and it did not pass unobserved by Philip, nor the long walk up and down after the dance was over. At length his friend came up to him and said something warm in admiration of her. 'She is very Irish,' was Philip's answer, with a cold smile, and Mr. Thorndale stood uncomfortable under the disapprobation, attracted by Eveleen's beauty and grace, yet so unused to trust his own judgment apart from 'Morville's,' as to be in an instant doubtful whether he really admired or not.
'You have not been dancing with her?' he said, presently.
'No: she attracts too many to need the attention of a nobody like myself.'
That 'too many,' seeming to confound him with the vulgar herd, made Mr. Thorndale heartily ashamed of having been pleased with her.
Philip was easy about him for the present, satisfied that admiration had been checked, which, if it had been allowed to grow into an attachment, would have been very undesirable.
The suspicions Charles had excited were so full in Philip's mind, however, that he could not as easily set it at rest respecting his cousin. Guy had three times asked her to dance, but each time she had been engaged. At last, just as the clock struck the hour at which the carriage had been ordered, he came up, and impetuously claimed her. 'One quadrille we must have, Laura, if you are not tired?'
'No! Oh, no! I could dance till this time to-morrow.'
'We ought to be going,' said Mrs. Edmonstone.
'0 pray, Mrs. Edmonstone, this one more,' cried Guy, eagerly. 'Laura owes me this one.'
'Yes, this one more, mamma,' said Laura, and they went off together, while Philip remained, in a reverie, till requested by his aunt to see if the carriage was ready.
The dance was over, the carriage was waiting, but Guy and Laura did not appear till, after two or three minutes spent in wonder and inquiries, they came quietly walking back from the library, where they had been looking at King Charles.
All the way home the four ladies in the carriage never ceased laughing and talking. The three gentlemen in theirs acted diversely. Mr. Edmonstone went to sleep, Philip sat in silent thought, Guy whistled and hummed the tunes, and moved his foot very much as if he was still dancing.
They met for a moment, and parted again in the hall at Hollywell, where the daylight was striving to get in through the closed shutters. Philip went on to Broadstone, Guy said he could not go to bed by daylight, called Bustle, and went to the river to bathe, and the rest crept upstairs to their r
ooms. And so ended Lord Kilcoran's ball.
CHAPTER 8
Like Alexander, I will reign,
And I will reign alone,
My thoughts shall ever more disdain
A rival near my throne.
But I must rule and govern still,
And always give the law,
And have each subject at my will,
And all to stand in awe.--MONTROSE.
One very hot afternoon, shortly after the ball, Captain Morville walked to Hollywell, accelerating his pace under the influence of anxious reflections.
He could not determine whether Charles had spoken in jest; but in spite of Guy's extreme youth, he feared there was ground for the suspicion excited by the hint, and was persuaded that such an attachment could produce nothing but unhappiness to his cousin, considering how little confidence could be placed in Guy. He perceived that there was much to inspire affection--attractive qualities, amiable disposition, the talent for music, and now this recently discovered power of versifying, all were in Guy's favour, besides the ancient name and long ancestry, which conferred a romantic interest, and caused even Philip to look up to him with a feudal feeling as head of the family. There was also the familiar intercourse to increase the danger; and Philip, as he reflected on these things, trembled for Laura, and felt himself her only protector; for his uncle was nobody, Mrs. Edmonstone was infatuated, and Charles would not listen to reason. To make everything worse, he had that morning heard that there was to be a grand inspection of the regiment, and a presentation of colours; Colonel Deane was very anxious; and it was plain that in the interval the officers would be allowed little leisure. The whole affair was to end with a ball, which would lead to a repetition of what had already disturbed him.
Thus meditating, Philip, heated and dusty, walked into the smooth green enclosure of Hollywell. Everything, save the dancing clouds of insect youth which whirled in his face, was drooping in the heat. The house-- every door and window opened--seemed gasping for breath; the cows sought refuge in the shade; the pony drooped its head drowsily; the leaves hung wearily; the flowers were faint and thirsty; and Bustle was stretched on the stone steps, mouth open, tongue out, only his tail now and then moving, till he put back his ears and crested his head to greet the arrival. Philip heard the sounds that had caused the motion of the sympathizing tail--the rich tones of Guy's voice. Stepping over the dog, he entered, and heard more clearly--
'Two loving hearts may sever, For sorrow fails them never.'
And then another voice--
'Who knows not love in sorrow's night, He knows not love in light.'
In the drawing-room, cool and comfortable in the green shade of the Venetian blinds of the bay window, stood Laura, leaning on the piano, close to Guy, who sat on the music-stool, looking thoroughly at home in his brown shooting-coat, and loosely-tied handkerchief.
Any one but Philip would have been out of temper, but he shook hands as cordially as usual, and would not even be the first to remark on the heat.
Laura told him he looked hot and tired, and invited him to come out to the others, and cool himself on the lawn. She went for her parasol, Guy ran for her camp stool, and Philip, going to the piano, read what they had been singing. The lines were in Laura's writing, corrected, here and there, in Guy's hand.
BE STEADFAST.
Two loving hearts may sever, Yet love shall fail them never. Love brightest beams in sorrow's night, Love is of life the light.
Two loving hearts may sever, Yet hope shall fail them never. Hope is a star in sorrow's night, Forget-me-not of light.
Two loving hearts may sever, Yet faith may fail them never. Trust on through sorrow's night, Faith is of love and hope the light.
Two loving hearts may sever, For sorrow fails them never. Who knows not love in sorrow's night, He knows not love in light.
Philip was by no means pleased. However, it was in anything but a sentimental manner that Guy, looking over him, said, 'For sever, read, be separated, but "a" wouldn't rhyme.'
'I translated it into prose, and Guy made it verse,' said Laura; 'I hope you approve of our performance.'
'It is that thing of Helmine von Chezy, "Beharre", is it not?' said Philip, particularly civil, because he was so much annoyed. 'You have rendered the spirit very well', but you have sacrificed a good deal to your double rhymes.'
'Yes; those last lines are not troubled with any equality of feet,' said Guy; 'but the repetition is half the beauty. It put me in mind of those lines of Burns--
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met and never parted, We had ne'er been broken hearted;"
but there is a trust in these that is more touching than that despair.'
'Yes; the despair is ready, to wish the love had never been,' said Laura. 'It does not see the star of trust. Why did you use that word "trust" only once, Guy?'
'I did not want to lose the three--faith, hope, love,--faith keeping the other two alive.'
'My doubt was whether it was right to have that analogy.'
'Surely,' said Guy, eagerly, 'that analogy must be the best part of earthly love.'
Here Charlotte came to see if Guy and Laura meant to sing all the afternoon; and they went out. They found the others in the arbour, and Charlotte's histories of its construction, gave Philip little satisfaction. They next proceeded to talk over the ball.
'Ah!' said Philip, 'balls are the fashion just now. What do you say, Amy, [he was more inclined to patronize her than any one else] to the gaieties we are going to provide for you?'
'You! Are you going to have your new colours? Oh! you are not going to give us a ball?'
'Well! that is fun!' cried Guy. 'What glory Maurice de Courcy must be in!'
'He is gone to Allonby,' said Philip, 'to announce it; saying, he must persuade his father to put off their going to Brighton. Do you think he will succeed?'
'Hardly,' said Laura; 'poor Lady Kilcoran was so knocked up by their ball, that she is the more in want of sea air. Oh, mamma, Eva must come and stay here.'
'That she must,' said Mrs. Edmonstone; 'that will make it easy. She is the only one who will care about the ball.'
Philip was obliged to conceal his vexation, and to answer the many eager questions about the arrangements. He stayed to dinner, and as the others went in-doors to dress, he lingered near Charlotte, assuming, with some difficulty, an air of indifference, and said-- 'Well, Charlotte, did you tease Guy into showing you those verses?'
'Oh yes,' said Charlotte, with what the French call "un air capable".'
'Well, what were they?'
'That I mustn't tell. They were very pretty; but I've promised.'
'Promised what?'
'Never to say anything about them. He made it a condition with me, and I assure you, I am to be trusted.'
'Right,' said Philip; 'I'll ask no more.'
'It would be of no use,' said Charlotte, shaking her head, as if she wished he would prove her further.
Philip was in hopes of being able to speak to Laura after dinner, but his uncle wanted him to come and look over the plans of an estate adjoining Redclyffe, which there was some idea of purchasing. Such an employment would in general have been congenial; but on this occasion, it was only by a strong force that he could chain his attention, for Guy was pacing the terrace with Laura and Amabel, and as they passed and repassed the window, he now and then caught sounds of repeating poetry.
In this Guy excelled. He did not read aloud well; he was too rapid, and eyes and thoughts were apt to travel still faster than the lips, thus producing a confusion; but no one could recite better when a passage had taken strong hold of his imagination, and he gave it the full effect of the modulations of his fine voice, conveying in its inflections the impressions which stirred him profoundly. He was just now enchanted with his first reading of 'Thalaba,' where he found all manner of deep meanings, to which the sisters listened with wonder and delight. He repeated, in a low, awful, thrilling tone, that
made Amy shudder, the lines in the seventh book, ending with--
"Who comes from the bridal chamber! It is Azrael, angel of death."'
'You have not been so taken up with any book since Sintram.' said Laura.
'It is like Sintram,' he replied.
'Like it?'
'So it seems to me. A strife with the powers of darkness; the victory, forgiveness, resignation, death.
"Thou know'st the secret wishes of my heart, Do with me as thou wilt, thy will is best."'
'I wish you would not speak as if you were Thalaba yourself,' said Amy, 'you bring the whole Domdaniel round us.'
'I am afraid he is going to believe himself Thalaba as well as Sintram,' said Laura. 'But you know Southey did not see all this himself, and did not understand it when it was pointed out.'
'Don't tell us that,' said Amy.
'Nay; I think there is something striking in it,' said Guy then, with a sudden transition, 'but is not this ball famous?'
And their talk was of balls and reviews till nine o'clock, when they were summoned to tea.
On the whole, Philip returned to Broadstone by no means comforted.
Never had he known so much difficulty in attending with patience to his duties as in the course of the next fortnight. They became a greater durance, as he at length looked his feelings full in the face, and became aware of their true nature.
He perceived that the loss of Laura would darken his whole existence; yet he thought that, were he only secure of her happiness, he could have resigned her in silence. Guy was, however, one of the last men in the world whom he could bear to see in possession of her; and probably she was allowing herself to be entangled, if not in heart, at least in manner. If so, she should not be unwarned. He had been her guide from childhood, and he would not fail her now.
Three days before the review, he succeeded in finding time for a walk to Hollywell, not fully decided on the part he should act, though resolved on making some remonstrance. He was crossing a stile, about a mile and a half from Hollywell, when he saw a lady sitting on the stump of a tree, sketching, and found that fate had been so propitious as to send Laura thither alone. The rest had gone to gather mushrooms on a down, and had left her sketching the view of the spires of Broadstone, in the cleft between the high green hills. She was very glad to see him, and held up her purple and olive washes to be criticised; but he did not pay much attention to them. He was almost confused at the sudden manner in which the opportunity for speaking had presented itself.
The Heir of Redclyffe Page 13
