CHAPTER XXXIII.
From yon blue heavens, above us bent, The gard'ner Adam and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent: Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good; Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
TENNYSON.
The news of the discovery of the relationship between Holden andPownal had reached Hillsdale before their arrival, and the friendsand acquaintances of both, comprising pretty much the whole village,hastened to present their congratulations. Many supposed now they hadobtained a clue to the singularities of the Solitary, and expectedthat since he had recovered his son, he would resume the habits ofordinary life. But nothing seemed further from Holden's intention. Inspite of the entreaties of his son, and the remonstrances of those fewwho ventured to speak to him on the subject, he returned on the veryday of their arrival to his cabin. It was, however, with no harshness,but with gentle and even exculpatory language, he refused theirrequest.
"Think not hard of me, my son, nor you, kind friends," he said, "if myears are deaf to your solicitations. The old man is weary and seekethrest. The trembling nerves still quiver to the cries of the horsemenand the rattling of chariots, nor may the tumult pass away till oldsights and sounds stealing in with soft ministry compose the excitedyet not unpleased spirit. I would gladly in solitude lay my tired headon the bosom of the Father, and thank Him in the silence of His worksfor mercies exceeding thought."
Holden, however, could not refuse to allow his son to accompany him,and to provide such little necessaries, as were esteemed essentialto his comfort. But he permitted the young man to remain only a shorttime. "Go," he said, "the world is bright before thee; enjoy itstransient sunshine. The time may come when even thou, with hope andconfidence in thy heart, and heaven in thine eyes, shalt say, 'I haveno pleasure therein.'" Pownal therefore returned to Hillsdale, withoutreluctance it may be supposed, when we add, that the same eveningfound him at the house of Mr. Bernard. It will be recollected he hadcommissions to execute for both the Judge and his wife, but if thereader thinks that not a sufficient reason why he should callupon them so soon, we have no objection to his adopting any otherconjecture, even to the extravagant supposition, that there was somemagnet to attract the young man's wandering feet.
It was a happy evening Pownal spent at the Judge's house. All seemedglad to see him again, and expressed their delight and wonder at thediscovery of his parent. And yet the young man could not help fancyingthere was a greater difference between his reception by the membersof the family, than he had been accustomed to. Mr. and Mrs. Bernard,indeed, were equally cordial as of old, but Anne, though she tenderedhim her hand with her usual frankness, and allowed it to linger inhis, appeared graver, and less disposed to indulge an exuberance ofspirits, while William Bernard was evidently more distant, and formal.There was, however, no want of politeness on his part, for he mingledwith his usual grace and intelligence in the conversation, andthe change was perceptible rather in the omission of old terms offamiliarity, than in any manifestation of coldness. He seemed to paythe same attention, and evince a like interest with the rest, in theparticulars of the adventures of Pownal, which, at the request of Mrs.Bernard, he narrated. Had a stranger, or one who saw the two youngmen together for the first time, been present, he would have noticednothing inconsistent with ordinary friendship, but Pownal comparedthe present with the past, and his jealous sensitiveness detected asomething wanting. But for all that, his enjoyment, though it might belessened, was not, as we have intimated, destroyed. He half suspectedthe cause, and his proud spirit rose with resentment. But so long ashe enjoyed the esteem of the parents, and was a welcome visitor attheir house, and Miss Bernard treated him with unabated regard, hecould well afford, he thought, to pass by without notice humors,which, in his changed condition, he considered equally unreasonableand absurd. For, he was no longer a mere clerk, without position insociety, but the member of a long-established and wealthy firm, anda favorite of its head, who seemed to have taken the fortunes of hisyoung partner into his own hands, with a determination to secure theirsuccess. True, he was the son of a poor and eccentric man, but nodishonor was attached to his father's name, and so far as educationand genuine refinement were concerned, he was the equal of any, andthe superior of most, by whom he was surrounded. With far differentfeelings, therefore, from those in the earlier period of hisacquaintance with Miss Bernard, when he discovered she was becomingdearer to him than prudence permitted, did he now approach her. Hedared to look forward to the time when it would be no presumption toavow his feelings.
The cause of William Bernard's coldness will be better understood by areference to a conversation between him and his sister, shortly beforethe return of Pownal to Hillsdale. Rumor, with her thousand tongues,had been busy, and, as is not unusual on such occasions, embellishedthe story with innumerable fanciful ornaments. The brother andsister had both heard the reports, and they were the subject of theirdiscussion.
"Why, Anne!" said William, "this is more wonderful than RobinsonCrusoe, or the Children of the Abbey. How do you think Pownal, or Mr.Holden, as I suppose we must call him now, relishes the relationship?"
"How, William, can he be otherwise than glad to find a father?"replied his sister.
"A vast deal depends upon who the father is."
"What! is it you who speak so?" cried Anne, with sparkling eyes. "Whatis there in the father unworthy of the son?"
"Were I now in Pownal's place, I should have preferred to discover aparent in some one else than in a half crazy man, who supports himselfby basket-making."
"And can you not," said his sister, indignantly, "under the maskwhich circumstances have imposed upon him, detect the noble-heartedgentleman? This is not at all like you, William, and I think his verymisfortunes ought to be a passport to your kindness."
"So they should be, and so they are, but the facts, which I will notrepeat, because it offends you, remain. Think you, it can be verypleasant, for a young man, to have precisely--precisely such aconnection?"
"I should despise Thomas Pownal, if he felt anything but pride in hisfather. I am the daughter of a republican, and care little for thedistinctions which the tailor makes. The noblest hearts are not alwaysthose which beat under the finest broadcloth."
"The rank is but the guinea stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that."
"Well, Anne," said her brother, "I never expected to take a lesson, indemocracy, from you, nor fancied you were a politician before; but,it seems to me you have become lately very sharp-sighted, to detectHolden's merits. What is it that has so improved your vision?"
"You are trying to tease me, now, but I will not be angry. You know,as well as I do, that from the first I took a liking to Mr. Holden. Sofar from being frightened at him, when I was a child, nothing pleasedme better that when he took Faith and me into his arms, and told usstories out of the Bible. I do believe I had then a presentiment hewas something different from what he seemed."
"But you have shown an extraordinary interest in him lately. Even now,your voice trembles, and your color is raised beyond the requirementsof the occasion."
"How is it possible to avoid being excited, when my brother speaksdisparagingly of one who has every title to compassion and respect?Is it not enough to soften your heart, to think of the wretchednesshe suffered so many years, and which shattered his fine understanding?And now, that his--Oh, William!" she cried, bursting into tears, "Idid not think you were so hard-hearted."
"My dear Anne! my dear sister!" exclaimed her brother, putting his armaround her and drawing her towards him, "forgive me. I never meant tohurt your feelings, though I am sorry they are so much interested."
"I will not affect to misunderstand you, brother," she said,recovering herself; "but you are mistaken, if you suppose that Mr.Pownal has ever--has ever--spoken to me in a manner different from theway in which he is in the habit of conversing with other ladies."
"Heaven be praised for that," said her brot
her. "But I ought to haveknown you never would permit it."
"You ought to have known that, had he done so, I should not havekept it a secret. My father and mother, and you, would have been madeacquainted with it."
"And, now, dear Annie, since things are as they are, I hope youwill not give Pownal any encouragement. Whatever may be your presentfeelings, he cannot disguise the fact, that he loves dearly to visithere."
"Encouragement!" cried Anne, her natural vivacity flashing up atthe imputation. "What do you take me for, William Bernard, that youventure to use such a word? Am I one of those old maids whom somewicked wag has described as crying out in despair, 'Who will have me?'or a cherry, at which any bird can pick?"
"There spoke the spirit of my sister. I hear, now, Anne Bernard. Youwill not forget the position of our family in society, and that uponyou and myself are centered the hopes of our parents."
"I trust I shall never forget my love and duty, or have any secretsfrom them. They have a right to be acquainted with every emotion of myheart, nor am I ashamed they should be seen."
"The accomplishments of Pownal entitle him to move in the firstsociety, I cannot deny that," continued young Bernard, "but, in myjudgment, something more is necessary in order to warrant his boldnessin aspiring to connect himself with one of the first families in thecountry."
"You will continue to harp on that string, William, but my opiniondiffers from yours. In our country there should be no distinctions butsuch as are created by goodness and intelligence."
"It all sounds very well in theory, but the application of the rule isimpossible. The dreamers of Utopian schemes may amuse themselves withsuch hallucinations, but practical people can only smile at them."
"Class me among the dreamers. Nor will I believe that whatever is trueand just is impracticable. Does redder blood flow in the veins of thechild cradled under a silken canopy, than in those of one rocked in akneading-trough?"
"You have profited to some purpose by the French lessons of ourfather," said Bernard, bitterly. "Principles like these may yetproduce as much confusion in our family on a small scale, as they didin France on a mighty theatre."
"You are losing yourself in the clouds, dear brother. But there can beno danger in following the guidance of one so wise and experienced asour father, nor does it become you to speak slightingly of any opinionhe may adopt."
"I did not mean to do so. I should be the last one to do so, though Icannot always agree with him. But you take an unfair advantage of thelittle excitement I feel, to put me in the wrong. Do you think I canlook on without being painfully interested, when I see my only sisterabout to throw herself away upon this obscure stranger, for you cannotconceal it from me that you love him?"
"Throw myself away! Obscure stranger! You are unkind William. Lovehim! it will be time enough to grant my love when it is asked for. Itdoes not become me, perhaps, to say it, but Mr. Pownal is not here toanswer for himself, and for that reason I will defend him. There livesnot the woman who might not be proud of the love of so noble andpure a heart. But you are not in a humor to hear reason," she added,rising, "and I will leave you until your returning good sense shallhave driven away suspicions equally unfounded and unjust."
"Stay, Anne, stop, sister," cried Bernard, as with a heightened colorshe hastened out of the room. "She is too much offended," he said tohimself, "to heed me, and I must wait for a more favorable opportunityto renew the conversation. I have seen this fancy gradually coming on,and, fool that I was, was afraid to speak for fear of making thingsworse. I thought it might be only a passing whim, like those whichflutter twenty times through girls' silly heads before they aremarried, and was unwilling to treat it as of any consequence. But doesAnne mean to deceive me? It is not at all like her. She never did sobefore. No, she has courage enough for anything, and is incapable ofdeception. But these foolish feelings strangely affect young womenand--young men, too. She must, herself, be deceived. She cannot beacquainted with the state of her own heart. Yet it may not have goneso far that it cannot be stopped. I had other plans for her, nor willI give them up. Father! mother! Pooh! nothing can be done with them.He would not see her lip quiver or a tear stand in her eye, if itcould be prevented at the expense of half his fortune, and motheralways thinks both perfection. No, if anything is to be done it mustbe with Anne herself, or Pownal, perhaps. Yet I would not make thelittle minx unhappy. But to be the brother-in-law of the son of aninsane basket-maker! It is too ridiculous."
No two persons could be more unlike in temperament, and in manyrespects in the organization of their minds, than William Bernard andhis sister. She, the creature of impulse, arriving at her conclusionsby a process like intuition: he, calm, thoughtful, deliberatelyweighing and revising every argument before he made up his mind: she,destitute of all worldly prudence and trusting to the inspirationsof an ingenuous and bold nature: he, worldly wise, cautious, andcalculating the end from the beginning. Yet were his aspirations nobleand untainted with a sordid or mean motive. He would not for a worldhave sacrificed the happiness of his sister, but he thought it notunbecoming to promote his personal views by her means, provided itcould be done without injury to herself. He was a politician, andyoung as he was his scheming brain already formed plans of family andpersonal aggrandizement, extending far into the future. Anne was mixedup with these in his mind, and he hoped, by the marriage connectionshe might form, to increase a family influence in furtherance of hisplans. These seemed likely to be defeated by Anne's partiality forPownal, and the young man felt the disappointment as keenly as hiscool philosophical nature would permit. But let it not be thought thatWilliam Bernard brought worldly prudence into all his plans. His loveof Faith Armstrong had no connection with any such feelings, and shewould have been equally the object of his admiration and choice, hadshe been a portionless maiden instead of the heiress of the wealthyMr. Armstrong. We will not say that her prospect of succeeding toa large fortune was disagreeable to her lover, but though when hethought of her it would sometimes occur to his mind, yet was it noconsideration that corrupted the purity of his affection.
Anne, when she left her brother, hastened to her chamber and subjectedher heart to a scrutiny it had never experienced. She was startledupon an examination her brother's language had suggested, to find theinterest Pownal had awakened in her bosom. She had been pleased to bein his company, and to receive from him those little attentions whichyoung men are in the habit of rendering to those of the same age ofthe other sex: a party never seemed complete from which he was absent:there was no one whose hand she more willingly accepted for the dance,or whose praise was more welcome when she rose from the piano: butthough the emotions she felt in his presence were so agreeable, shehad not suspected them to be those of love. Her brother had abruptlyawakened her to the reality. In the simplicity of her innocence, andwith somewhat of a maiden shame, she blamed herself for allowing anyyoung man to become to her an object of so much interest, and shrunkfrom the idea of having at some time unwittingly betrayed herself. Shedetermined, whatever pain it might cost, to reveal to her mother allher feelings, and to be guided by her advice.
True hearted, guileless girl! instinctively she felt that the path ofduty leads to peace and happiness.
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