BOOK II. "The hour arrived--years having rolled away When his return the Gods no more delay. Lo! Ithaca the Fates award; and there New trials meet the Wanderer. " HOMER: _Od. _ lib. I, 16. CHAPTER I. THERE is continual spring and harvest here-- Continual, both meeting at one time; For both the boughs do laughing blossoms bear, And with fresh colours deck the wanton prime; And eke at once the heavy trees they climb, Which seem to labour under their fruit's load. SPENSER: _The Garden of Adonis_. Vis boni In ipsa inesset forma. *--TERENCE. * "Even in beauty there exists the power of virtue. " BEAUTY, thou art twice blessed; thou blessest the gazer and thepossessor; often at once the effect and the cause of goodness! A sweetdisposition, a lovely soul, an affectionate nature, will speak in theeyes, the lips, the brow, and become the cause of beauty. On the otherhand, they who have a gift that commands love, a key that opens allhearts, are ordinarily inclined to look with happy eyes upon theworld, --to be cheerful and serene, to hope and to confide. There is morewisdom than the vulgar dream of in our admiration of a fair face. Evelyn Cameron was beautiful, --a beauty that came from the heart, andwent to the heart; a beauty, the very spirit of which was love! Lovesmiled on her dimpled lips, it reposed on her open brow, it played in theprofuse and careless ringlets of darkest yet sunniest auburn, which abreeze could lift from her delicate and virgin cheek; Love, in all itstenderness, in all its kindness, its unsuspecting truth, --Love colouredevery thought, murmured in her low melodious voice, in all its symmetryand glorious womanhood. Love swelled the swan-like neck, and moulded therounded limb. She was just the kind of person that takes the judgment by storm: whethergay or grave, there was so charming and irresistible a grace about her. She seemed born, not only to captivate the giddy, but to turn the headsof the sage. Roxalana was nothing to her. How, in the obscure hamlet ofBrook-Green, she had learned all the arts of pleasing it is impossible tosay. In her arch smile, the pretty toss of her head, the half shyness, half freedom, of her winning ways, it was as if Nature had made her todelight one heart, and torment all others. Without being learned, the mind of Evelyn was cultivated and wellinformed. Her heart, perhaps, helped to instruct her understanding; forby a kind of intuition she could appreciate all that was beautiful andelevated. Her unvitiated and guileless taste had a logic of its own: noschoolman had ever a quicker penetration into truth, no critic ever morereadily detected the meretricious and the false. The book that Evelyncould admire was sure to be stamped with the impress of the noble, thelovely, or the true! But Evelyn had faults, --the faults of her age; or, rather, she hadtendencies that might conduce to error. She was of so generous a naturethat the very thought of sacrificing her self for another had a charm. She ever acted from impulse, --impulses pure and good, but often rash andimprudent. She was yielding to weakness, persuaded into anything, sosensitive, that even a cold look from one moderately liked cut her to theheart; and by the sympathy that accompanies sensitiveness, no pain to herwas so great as the thought of giving pain to another. Hence it was thatVargrave might form reasonable hopes of his ultimate success. It was adangerous constitution for happiness! How many chances must combine topreserve to the mid-day of characters like this the sunshine of theirdawn! The butterfly that seems the child of the summer and theflowers--what wind will not chill its mirth, what touch will not brushaway its hues? CHAPTER II. THESE, on a general survey, are the modes Of pulpit oratory which agree With no unlettered audience. --POLWHELE. MRS. LESLIE had returned from her visit to the rectory to her own home, and Evelyn had now been some weeks at Mrs. Merton's. As was natural, shehad grown in some measure reconciled and resigned to her change of abode. In fact, no sooner did she pass Mrs. Merton's threshold, than, for thefirst time, she was made aware of her consequence in life. The Rev. Mr. Merton was a man of the nicest perception in all thingsappertaining to worldly consideration. The second son of a very wealthybaronet (who was the first commoner of his county) and of the daughter ofa rich and highly-descended peer, Mr. Merton had been brought near enoughto rank and power to appreciate all their advantages. In early life hehad been something of a "tuft-hunter;" but as his understanding was goodand his passions not very strong, he had soon perceived that that vesselof clay, a young man with a moderate fortune, cannot long sail down thesame stream with the metal vessels of rich earls and extravagant dandies. Besides, he was destined for the Church--because there was one of thefinest livings in England in the family. He therefore took orders at sixand twenty; married Mrs. Leslie's daughter, who had thirty thousandpounds: and settled at the rectory of Merton, within a mile of the familyseat. He became a very respectable and extremely popular man. He wassingularly hospitable, and built a new wing--containing a largedining-room and six capital bed-rooms--to the rectory, which had now muchmore the appearance of a country villa than a country parsonage. Hisbrother, succeeding to the estates, and residing chiefly in theneighbourhood, became, like his father before him, member for the county, and was one of the country gentlemen most looked up to in the House ofCommons. A sensible and frequent, though uncommonly prosy speaker, singularly independent (for he had a clear fourteen thousand pounds ayear, and did not desire office), and valuing himself on not being aparty man, so that his vote on critical questions was often a matter ofgreat doubt, and, therefore, of great moment, Sir John Merton gaveconsiderable importance to the Rev. Charles Merton. The latter kept upall the more select of his old London acquaintances; and few countryhouses, at certain seasons of the year, were filled more aristocraticallythan the pleasant rectory-house. Mr. Merton, indeed, contrived to makethe Hall a reservoir for the parsonage, and periodically drafted off the_elite_ of the visitors at the former to spend a few days at the latter. This was the more easily done, as his brother was a widower, and hisconversation was all of one sort, --the state of the nation and theagricultural interest. Mr. Merton was upon very friendly terms with hisbrother, looked after the property in the absence of Sir John, kept upthe family interest, was an excellent electioneerer, a good speaker at apinch, an able magistrate, --a man, in short, most useful in the county;on the whole, he was more popular than his brother, and almost as muchlooked up to--perhaps, because he was much less ostentatious. He hadvery good taste, had the Rev. Charles Merton!--his table plentiful, butplain--his manners affable to the low, though agreeably sycophantic tothe high; and there was nothing about him that ever wounded self-love. To add to the attractions of his house, his wife, simple andgood-tempered, could talk with anybody, take off the bores, and leavepeople to be comfortable in their own way: while he had a large family offine children of all ages, that had long given easy and constant excuseunder the name of "little children's parties, " for getting up animpromptu dance or a gypsy dinner, --enlivening the neighbourhood, inshort. Caroline was the eldest; then came a son, attached to a foreignministry, and another, who, though only nineteen, was a private secretaryto one of our Indian satraps. The acquaintance of these young gentlemen, thus engaged, it was therefore Evelyn's misfortune to lose the advantageof cultivating, --a loss which both Mr. And Mrs. Merton assured her wasvery much to be regretted. But to make up to her for such a privationthere were two lovely little girls, one ten, and the other seven yearsold, who fell in love with Evelyn at first sight. Caroline was one ofthe beauties of the county, clever and conversable, "drew young men, " andset the fashion to young ladies, especially when she returned fromspending the season with Lady Elizabeth. It was a delightful family! In person, Mr. Merton was of the middle height; fair, and inclined tostoutness, with small features, beautiful teeth, and great suavity ofaddress. Mindful still of the time when he had been "about town, " he wasvery particular in his dress: his black coat, neatly relieved in theevening by a white underwaistcoat, and a shirt-front admirably plaited, with plain studs of dark enamel, his well-cut trousers, and elaboratelypolished shoes--he was good-humouredly vain of his feet and hands--wonfor him the common praise of the dandies (who occasionally honoured himwith a visit to shoot his game, and flirt with his daughter), "That oldMerton was a most gentlemanlike fellow--so d-----d neat for a parson!" Such, mentally, morally, and physically, was the Rev. Charles Merton, rector of Merton, brother of Sir John, and possessor of an income that, what with his rich living, his wife's fortune, and his own, which was notinconsiderable, amounted to between four and five thousand pounds a year, which income, managed with judgment as well as liberality, could not failto secure to him all the good things of this world, --the respect of hisfriends amongst the rest. Caroline was right when she told Evelyn thather papa was very different from a mere country parson. Now this gentleman could not fail to see all the claims that Evelyn mightfairly advance upon the esteem, nay, the veneration of himself andfamily: a young beauty, with a fortune of about a quarter of a million, was a phenomenon that might fairly be called celestial. Her pretensionswere enhanced by her engagement to Lord Vargrave, --an engagement whichmight be broken; so that, as he interpreted it, the _worst_ that couldhappen to the young lady was to marry an able and rising Minister ofState, --a peer of the realm; but she was perfectly free to marry a stillgreater man, if she could find him; and who knows but what perhaps the_attache_, if he could get leave of absence? Mr. Merton was too sensibleto pursue that thought further for the present. The good man was greatly shocked at the too familiar manner in which Mrs. Merton spoke to this high-fated heiress, at Evelyn's travelling so farwithout her own maid, at her very primitive wardrobe--poor, ill-usedchild! Mr. Merton was a connoisseur in ladies' dress. It was quitepainful to see that the unfortunate girl had been so neglected. LadyVargrave must be a very strange person. He inquired compassionatelywhether she was allowed any pocket money; and finding, to his relief, that in that respect Miss Cameron was munificently supplied, he suggestedthat a proper abigail should be immediately engaged; that proper ordersto Madame Devy should be immediately transmitted to London, with one ofEvelyn's dresses, as a pattern for nothing but length and breadth. Healmost stamped with vexation when he heard that Evelyn had been placed inone of the neat little rooms generally appropriated to young ladyvisitors. "She is quite contented, my dear Mr. Merton; she is so simple; she hasnot been brought up in the style you think for. " "Mrs. Merton, " said the rector, with great solemnity, "Miss Cameron mayknow no better now; but what will she think of us hereafter? It is mymaxim to recollect what people will be, and show them that respect whichmay leave pleasing impressions when they have it in their power to showus civility in return. " With many apologies, which quite overwhelmed poor Evelyn, she wastransferred from the little chamber, with its French bed andbamboo-coloured washhand-stand, to an apartment with a buhl wardrobe anda four-post bed with green silk curtains, usually appropriated to theregular Christmas visitant, the Dowager Countess of Chipperton. A prettymorning room communicated with the sleeping apartment, and thence aprivate staircase conducted into the gardens. The whole family were dulyimpressed and re-impressed with her importance. No queen could be mademore of. Evelyn mistook it all for pure kindness, and returned thehospitality with an affection that extended to the whole family, butparticularly to the two little girls, and a beautiful black spaniel. Herdresses came down from London; her abigail arrived; the buhl wardrobe wasduly filled, --and Evelyn at last learned that it is a fine thing to berich. An account of all these proceedings was forwarded to LadyVargrave, in a long and most complacent letter, by the rector himself. The answer was short, but it contented the excellent clergyman; for itapproved of all he had done, and begged that Miss Cameron might haveeverything that seemed proper to her station. By the same post came two letters to Evelyn herself, --one from LadyVargrave, one from the curate. They transported her from the fine roomand the buhl wardrobe to the cottage and the lawn; and the fine abigail, when she came to dress her young lady's hair, found her weeping. It was a matter of great regret to the rector that it was that time ofyear when--precisely because the country is most beautiful--every oneworth knowing is in town. Still, however, some stray guests found theirway to the rectory for a day or two, and still there were somearistocratic old families in the neighbourhood, who never went up toLondon: so that two days in the week the rector's wine flowed, thewhist-tables were set out, and the piano called into requisition. Evelyn--the object of universal attention and admiration--was put at herease by her station itself; for good manners come like an instinct tothose on whom the world smiles. Insensibly she acquired self-possessionand the smoothness of society; and if her child-like playfulness brokeout from all conventional restraint, it only made more charming andbrilliant the great heiress, whose delicate and fairy cast of beauty sowell became her graceful _abandon_ of manner, and who looked sounequivocally ladylike to the eyes that rested on Madame Devy's blondesand satins. Caroline was not so gay as she had been at the cottage. Something seemedto weigh upon her spirits: she was often moody and thoughtful. She wasthe only one in the family not good-tempered; and her peevish replies toher parents, when no visitor imposed a check on the family circle, inconceivably pained Evelyn, and greatly contrasted the flow of spiritswhich distinguished her when she found somebody worth listening to. Still Evelyn--who, where she once liked, found it difficult to withdrawregard--sought to overlook Caroline's blemishes, and to persuade herselfof a thousand good qualities below the surface; and her generous naturefound constant opportunity of venting itself in costly gifts, selectedfrom the London parcels, with which the officious Mr. Merton relieved themonotony of the rectory. These gifts Caroline could not refuse withoutpaining her young friend. She took them reluctantly, for, to do herjustice, Caroline, though ambitious, was not mean. Thus time passed in the rectory, in gay variety and constantentertainment; and all things combined to spoil the heiress, if, indeed, goodness ever is spoiled by kindness and prosperity. Is it to the frostor to the sunshine that the flower opens its petals, or the fruit ripensfrom the blossom? CHAPTER III. _Rod_. How sweet these solitary places are! . . . . . . _Ped_. What strange musick Was that we heard afar off? _Curio_. We've told you what he is, what time we've sought him, His nature and his name. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. _The Pilgrim_. ONE day, as the ladies were seated in Mrs. Merton's morning-room, Evelyn, who had been stationed by the window hearing the little Cecilia gothrough the French verbs, and had just finished that agreeable task, exclaimed, -- "Do tell me to whom that old house belongs, with the picturesquegable-end and Gothic turrets, there, just peeping through the trees, --Ihave always forgot to ask you. " "Oh, my dear Miss Cameron, " said Mrs. Merton, "that is Burleigh; have younot been there? How stupid in Caroline not to show it to you! It is oneof the lions of the place. It belongs to a man you have often heardof, --Mr. Maltravers. " "Indeed!" cried Evelyn; and she gazed with new interest on the graymelancholy pile, as the sunshine brought it into strong contrast with thedark pines around it. "And Mr. Maltravers himself--?" "Is still abroad, I believe; though I did hear the other day that he wasshortly expected at Burleigh. It is a curious old place, though muchneglected. I believe, indeed, it has not been furnished since the timeof Charles the First. (Cissy, my love, don't stoop so. ) Very gloomy, inmy opinion; and not any fine room in the house, except the library, whichwas once a chapel. However, people come miles to see it. " "Will you go there to-day?" said Caroline, languidly; "it is a verypleasant walk through the glebe-land and the wood, --not above half a mileby the foot-path. " "I should like it so much. " "Yes, " said Mrs. Merton, "and you had better go before he returns, --he isso strange. He does not allow it to be seen when he is down. But, indeed, he has only been once at the old place since he was of age. (Sophy, you will tear Miss Cameron's scarf to pieces; do be quiet, child. ) That was before he was a great man; he was then very odd, saw nosociety, only dined once with us, though Mr. Merton paid him everyattention. They show the room in which he wrote his books. " "I remember him very well, though I was then but a child, " saidCaroline, --"a handsome, thoughtful face. " "Did you think so, my dear? Fine eyes and teeth, certainly, and acommanding figure, but nothing more. " "Well, " said Caroline, "if you like to go, Evelyn, I am at your service. " "And--I--Evy, dear--I--may go, " said Cecilia, clinging to Evelyn. "And me, too, " lisped Sophia, the youngest hope, --"there's such a prettypeacock. " "Oh, yes, they may go, Mrs. Merton, we'll take such care of them. " "Very well, my dear; Miss Cameron quite spoils you. " Evelyn tripped away to put on her bonnet, and the children ran after her, clapping their hands, --they could not bear to lose sight of her for amoment. "Caroline, " said Mrs. Merton, affectionately, "are you not well? Youhave seemed pale lately, and not in your usual spirits. " "Oh, yes, I'm well enough, " answered Caroline, rather peevishly; "butthis place is so dull now; very provoking that Lady Elizabeth does not goto London this year. " "My dear, it will be gayer, I hope, in July, when the races at Knaresdeanbegin; and Lord Vargrave has promised to come. " "Has Lord Vargrave written to you lately?" "No, my dear. " "Very odd. " "Does Evelyn ever talk of him?" "Not much, " said Caroline, rising and quitting the room. It was a most cheerful exhilarating day, --the close of sweet May; thehedges were white with blossoms; a light breeze rustled the young leaves;the butterflies had ventured forth, and the children chased them over thegrass, as Evelyn and Caroline, who walked much too slow for her companion(Evelyn longed to run), followed them soberly towards Burleigh. They passed the glebe-fields; and a little bridge, thrown over a brawlingrivulet, conducted them into a wood. "This stream, " said Caroline, "forms the boundary between my uncle'sestates and those of Mr. Maltravers. It must be very unpleasant to soproud a man as Mr. Maltravers is said to be, to have the land of anotherproprietor so near his house. He could hear my uncle's gun from his verydrawing-room. However, Sir John takes care not to molest him. On theother side, the Burleigh estates extend for some miles; indeed, Mr. Maltravers is the next great proprietor to my uncle in this part of thecounty. Very strange that he does not marry! There, now you can see thehouse. " The mansion lay somewhat low, with hanging woods in the rear: and theold-fashioned fish-ponds gleaming in the sunshine and overshadowed bygigantic trees increased the venerable stillness of its aspect. Ivy andinnumerable creepers covered one side of the house; and long weedscumbered the deserted road. "It is sadly neglected, " said Caroline; "and was so, even in the lastowner's life. Mr. Maltravers inherits the place from his mother's uncle. We may as well enter the house by the private way. The front entrance iskept locked up. " Winding by a path that conducted into a flower-garden, divided from thepark by a ha-ha, over which a plank and a small gate, rusting off itshinges, were placed, Caroline led the way towards the building. At thispoint of view it presented a large bay window that by a flight of foursteps led into the garden. On one side rose a square, narrow turret, surmounted by a gilt dome and quaint weathercock, below the architrave ofwhich was a sun-dial, set in the stonework; and another dial stood in thegarden, with the common and beautiful motto, -- "Non numero horas, nisi serenas!"* * "I number not the hours, unless sunny. " On the other side of the bay window a huge buttress cast its mass ofshadow. There was something in the appearance of the whole place thatinvited to contemplation and repose, --something almost monastic. Thegayety of the teeming spring-time could not divest the spot of a certainsadness, not displeasing, however, whether to the young, to whom there isa luxury in the vague sentiment of melancholy, or to those who, havingknown real griefs, seek for an anodyne in meditation and memory. The lowlead-coloured door, set deep in the turret, was locked, and the bellbeside it broken. Caroline turned impatiently away. "We must go roundto the other side, " said she, "and try to make the deaf old man hear us. " "Oh, Carry!" cried Cecilia, "the great window is open;" and she ran upthe steps. "That is lucky, " said Caroline; and the rest followed Cecilia. Evelyn now stood within the library of which Mrs. Merton had spoken. Itwas a large room, about fifty feet in length, and proportionably wide;somewhat dark, for the light came only from the one large window throughwhich they entered; and though the window rose to the cornice of theceiling, and took up one side of the apartment, the daylight was subduedby the heaviness of the stonework in which the narrow panes were set, andby the glass stained with armorial bearings in the upper part of thecasement. The bookcases, too, were of the dark oak which so much absorbsthe light; and the gilding, formerly meant to relieve them, wasdiscoloured by time. The room was almost disproportionably lofty; the ceiling, elaboratelycoved, and richly carved with grotesque masks, preserved the Gothiccharacter of the age in which it had been devoted to a religious purpose. Two fireplaces, with high chimney-pieces of oak, in which were insertedtwo portraits, broke the symmetry of the tall bookcases. In one of thesefireplaces were half-burnt logs; and a huge armchair, with a smallreading-desk beside it, seemed to bespeak the recent occupation of theroom. On the fourth side, opposite the window, the wall was covered withfaded tapestry, representing the meeting of Solomon and the Queen ofSheba; the arras was nailed over doors on either hand, --the chinksbetween the door and the wall serving, in one instance, to cut off in themiddle his wise majesty, who was making a low bow; while in the other ittook the ground from under the wanton queen, just as she was descendingfrom her chariot. Near the window stood a grand piano, the only modern article in the room, save one of the portraits, presently to be described. On all this Evelyngazed silently and devoutly: she had naturally that reverence for geniuswhich is common to the enthusiastic and young; and there is, even to thedullest, a certain interest in the homes of those who have implantedwithin us a new thought. But here there was, she imagined, a rare andsingular harmony between the place and the mental characteristics of theowner. She fancied she now better understood the shadowy andmetaphysical repose of thought that had distinguished the earlierwritings of Maltravers, --the writings composed or planned in this stillretreat. But what particularly caught her attention was one of the two portraitsthat adorned the mantelpieces. The further one was attired in the richand fanciful armour of the time of Elizabeth; the head bare, the helmeton a table on which the hand rested. It was a handsome and strikingcountenance; and an inscription announced it to be a Digby, an ancestorof Maltravers. But the other was a beautiful girl of about eighteen, in the now almostantiquated dress of forty years ago. The features were delicate, but thecolours somewhat faded, and there was something mournful in theexpression. A silk curtain, drawn on one side, seemed to denote howcarefully it was prized by the possessor. Evelyn turned for explanation to her cicerone. "This is the second time I have seen that picture, " said Caroline; "forit is only by great entreaty and as a mysterious favour that the oldhousekeeper draws aside the veil. Some touch of sentiment in Maltraversmakes him regard it as sacred. It is the picture of his mother beforeshe married; she died in giving him birth. " Evelyn sighed; how well she understood the sentiment which seemed toCaroline so eccentric! The countenance fascinated her; the eye seemed tofollow her as she turned. "As a proper pendant to this picture, " said Caroline, "he ought to havedismissed the effigies of yon warlike gentleman, and replaced it by oneof poor Lady Florence Lascelles, for whose loss he is said to havequitted his country: but, perhaps, it was the loss of her fortune. " "How can you say so?--fie!" cried Evelyn, with a burst of generousindignation. "Ah, my dear, you heiresses have a fellow-feeling with each other!Nevertheless, clever men are less sentimental than we deem them. Heigho!this quiet room gives me the spleen, I fancy. " "Dearest Evy, " whispered Cecilia, "I think you have a look of that prettypicture, only you are much prettier. Do take off your bonnet; your hairjust falls down like hers. " Evelyn shook her head gravely; but the spoiled child hastily untied theribbons and snatched away the hat, and Evelyn's sunny ringlets fell downin beautiful disorder. There was no resemblance between Evelyn and theportrait, except in the colour of the hair, and the careless fashion itnow by chance assumed. Yet Evelyn was pleased to think that a likenessdid exist, though Caroline declared it was a most unflatteringcompliment. "I don't wonder, " said the latter, changing the theme, --"I don't wonderMr. Maltravers lives so little in this 'Castle Dull;' yet it might bemuch improved. French windows and plate-glass, for instance; and ifthose lumbering bookshelves and horrid old chimney-pieces were removedand the ceiling painted white and gold like that in my uncle's saloon, and a rich, lively paper, instead of the tapestry, it would really make avery fine ballroom. " "Let us have a dance here now, " cried Cecilia. "Come, stand up, Sophy;"and the children began to practise a waltz step, tumbling over eachother, and laughing in full glee. "Hush, hush!" said Evelyn, softly. She had never before checked thechildren's mirth, and she could not tell why she did so now. "I suppose the old butler has been entertaining the bailiff here, " saidCaroline, pointing to the remains of the fire. "And is this the room he chiefly inhabited, --the room that you say theyshow as his?" "No; that tapestry door to the right leads into a little study where hewrote. " So saying, Caroline tried to open the door, but it was lockedfrom within. She then opened the other door, which showed a longwainscoted passage, hung with rusty pikes, and a few breastplates of thetime of the Parliamentary Wars. "This leads to the main body of theHouse, " said Caroline, "from which the room we are now in and the littlestudy are completely detached, having, as you know, been the chapel inpopish times. I have heard that Sir Kenelm Digby, an ancestralconnection of the present owner, first converted them into their presentuse, and, in return, built the village church on the other side of thepark. " Sir Kenelm Digby, the old cavalier philosopher!---a new name of interestto consecrate the place! Evelyn could have lingered all day in the room;and perhaps as an excuse for a longer sojourn, hastened to the piano--itwas open--she ran her fairy fingers over the keys, and the sound from theuntuned and neglected instrument thrilled wild and spiritlike through themelancholy chamber. "Oh, do sing us something, Evy, " cried Cecilia, running up to, anddrawing a chair to, the instrument. "Do, Evelyn, " said Caroline, languidly; "it will serve to bring one ofthe servants to us, and save us a journey to the offices. " It was just what Evelyn wished. Some verses, which her mother especiallyloved, verses written by Maltravers upon returning after absence to hisown home, had rushed into her mind as she had touched the keys. Theywere appropriate to the place, and had been beautifully set to music. Sothe children hushed themselves, and nestled at her feet; and after alittle prelude, keeping the accompaniment under, that the spoiledinstrument might not mar the sweet words and sweeter voice, she began thesong. Meanwhile in the adjoining room, the little study which Caroline hadspoken of, sat the owner of the house! He had returned suddenly andunexpectedly the previous night. The old steward was in attendance atthe moment, full of apologies, congratulations, and gossip; andMaltravers, grown a stern and haughty man, was already impatientlyturning away, when he heard the sudden sound of the children's laughterand loud voices in the room beyond. Maltravers frowned. "What impertinence is this?" said he in a tone that, though very calm, made the steward quake in his shoes. "I don't know, really, your honour; there be so many grand folks come tosee the house in the fine weather, that--" "And you permit your master's house to be a raree-show? You do well, sir. " "If your honour were more amongst us, there might be more disciplinelike, " said the steward, stoutly; "but no one in my time has cared solittle for the old place as those it belongs to. " "Fewer words with me, sir, " said Maltravers, haughtily; "and now go andinform those people that I am returned, and wish for no guests but thoseI invite myself. " "Sir!" "Do you not hear me? Say that if it so please them, these old ruins aremy property, and are not to be jobbed out to the insolence of publiccuriosity. Go, sir. " "But--I beg pardon, your honour--if they be great folks?" "Great folks!--great! Ay, there it is. Why, if they be great folks, they have great houses of their own, Mr. Justis. " The steward stared. "Perhaps, your honour, " he put in, deprecatingly, "they be Mr. Merton's family: they come very often when the Londongentlemen are with them. " "Merton!--oh, the cringing parson. Harkye! one word more with me, sir, and you quit my service to-morrow. " Mr. Justis lifted his eyes and hands to heaven; but there was somethingin his master's voice and look which checked reply, and he turned slowlyto the door--when a voice of such heavenly sweetness was heard withoutthat it arrested his own step and made the stern Maltravers start in hisseat. He held up his hand to the steward to delay his errand, andlistened, charmed and spell-bound. His own words came on his ear, --wordslong unfamiliar to him, and at first but imperfectly remembered; wordsconnected with the early and virgin years of poetry and aspiration; wordsthat were as the ghosts of thoughts now far too gentle for his alteredsoul. He bowed down his head, and the dark shade left his brow. The song ceased. Maltravers moved with a sigh, and his eyes rested onthe form of the steward with his hand on the door. "Shall I give your honour's message?" said Mr. Justis, gravely. "No; take care for the future; leave me now. " Mr. Justis made one leg, and then, well pleased, took to both. "Well, " thought he, as he departed, "how foreign parts do spoil agentleman! so mild as he was once! I must botch up the accounts, Isee, --the squire has grown sharp. " As Evelyn concluded her song, she--whose charm in singing was that shesang from the heart--was so touched by the melancholy music of the airand words, that her voice faltered, and the last line died inaudibly onher lips. The children sprang up and kissed her. "Oh, " cried Cecilia, "there is the beautiful peacock!" And there, indeed, on the steps without--perhaps attracted by the music--stood thepicturesque bird. The children ran out to greet their old favourite, whowas extremely tame; and presently Cecilia returned. "Oh, Carry! do see what beautiful horses are coming up the park!" Caroline, who was a good rider, and fond of horses, and whose curiositywas always aroused by things connected with show and station, sufferedthe little girl to draw her into the garden. Two grooms, each mounted ona horse of the pure Arabian breed, and each leading another, swathed andbandaged, were riding slowly up the road; and Caroline was so attractedby the novel appearance of the animals in a place so deserted that shefollowed the children towards them, to learn who could possibly be theirenviable owner. Evelyn, forgotten for the moment, remained alone. Shewas pleased at being so, and once more turned to the picture which had soattracted her before. The mild eyes fixed on her, with an expressionthat recalled to her mind her own mother. "And, " thought she, as she gazed, "this fair creature did not live toknow the fame of her son, to rejoice in his success, or to soothe hisgrief. And he, that son, a disappointed and solitary exile in distantlands, while strangers stand within his deserted hall!" The images she had conjured up moved and absorbed her; and she continuedto stand before the picture, gazing upward with moistened eyes. It was abeautiful vision as she thus stood, with her delicate bloom, herluxuriant hair (for the hat was not yet replaced), her elastic form, sofull of youth and health and hope, --the living form beside the fadedcanvas of the dead, once youthful, tender, lovely as herself! Evelynturned away with a sigh; the sigh was re-echoed yet more deeply. Shestarted: the door that led to the study was opened, and in the aperturewas the figure of a man in the prime of life. His hair, still luxuriantas in his earliest youth, though darkened by the suns of the East, curledover a forehead of majestic expanse. The high and proud features, thatwell became a stature above the ordinary standard; the pale but bronzedcomplexion; the large eyes of deepest blue, shaded by dark brows andlashes; and more than all, that expression at once of passion and reposewhich characterizes the old Italian portraits, and seems to denote theinscrutable power that experience imparts to intellect, constituted an_ensemble_ which, if not faultlessly handsome, was eminently striking, and formed at once to interest and command. It was a face, once seen, never to be forgotten; it was a face that had long, half unconsciously, haunted Evelyn's young dreams; it was a face she had seen before, though, then younger and milder and fairer, it wore a different aspect. Evelyn stood rooted to the spot, feeling herself blush to her verytemples, --an enchanting picture of bashful confusion and innocent alarm. "Do not let me regret my return, " said the stranger, approaching after ashort pause, and with much gentleness in his voice and smile; "and thinkthat the owner is doomed to scare away the fair spirits that haunted thespot in his absence. " "The owner!" repeated Evelyn, almost inaudibly, and in increasedembarrassment; "are you then the--the--" "Yes, " courteously interrupted the stranger, seeing her confusion, "myname is Maltravers; and I am to blame for not having informed you of mysudden return, or for now trespassing on your presence. But you see myexcuse;" and he pointed to the instrument. "You have the magic thatdraws even the serpent from his hole. But you are not alone?" "Oh, no! no, indeed! Miss Merton is with me. I know not where she isgone. I will seek her. " "Miss Merton! You are not then one of that family?" "No, only a guest. I will find her; she must apologize for us. We werenot aware that you were here, --indeed we were not. " "That is a cruel excuse, " said Maltravers, smiling at her eagerness: andthe smile and the look reminded her yet more forcibly of the time when hehad carried her in his arms and soothed her suffering and praised hercourage and pressed the kiss almost of a lover on her hand. At thatthought she blushed yet more deeply, and yet more eagerly turned toescape. Maltravers did not seek to detain her, but silently followed her steps. She had scarcely gained the window, before little Cecilia scampered in, crying, -- "Only think! Mr. Maltravers has come back, and brought such beautifulhorses!" Cecilia stopped abruptly, as she caught sight of the stranger; and thenext moment Caroline herself appeared. Her worldly experience and quicksense saw immediately what had chanced; and she hastened to apologize toMaltravers, and congratulate him on his return, with an ease thatastonished poor Evelyn, and by no means seemed appreciated by Maltravershimself. He replied with brief and haughty courtesy. "My father, " continued Caroline, "will be so glad to hear you are comeback. He will hasten to pay you his respects, and apologize for histruants. But I have not formally introduced you to my fellow-offender. My dear, let me present to you one whom Fame has already made known toyou; Mr. Maltravers, Miss Cameron, step-daughter, " she added in a lowervoice, "to the late Lord Vargrave. " At the first part of this introduction Maltravers frowned; at the last heforgot all displeasure. "Is it possible? I _thought_ I had seen you before, but in a dream. Ah, then we are not quite strangers!" Evelyn's eye met his, and though she coloured and strove to look grave, ahalf smile brought out the dimples that played round her arch lips. "But you do not remember me?" added Maltravers. "Oh, yes!" exclaimed Evelyn, with a sudden impulse; and then checkedherself. Caroline came to her friend's relief. "What is this? You surprise me; where did you ever see Mr. Maltraversbefore?" "I can answer that question, Miss Merton. When Miss Cameron was but achild, as high as my little friend here, an accident on the road procuredme her acquaintance; and the sweetness and fortitude she then displayedleft an impression on me not worn out even to this day. And thus we meetagain, " added Maltravers, in a muttered voice, as to himself. "Howstrange a thing life is!" "Well, " said Miss Merton, "we must intrude on you no more, --you have somuch to do. I am so sorry Sir John is not down to welcome you; but Ihope we shall be good neighbours. _Au revoir_!" And, fancying herself most charming, Caroline bowed, smiled, and walkedoff with her train. Maltravers paused irresolute. If Evelyn had lookedback, he would have accompanied them home; but Evelyn did not lookback, --and he stayed. Miss Merton rallied her young friend unmercifully, as they walkedhomeward, and she extracted a very brief and imperfect history of theadventure that had formed the first acquaintance, and of the interview bywhich it had been renewed. But Evelyn did not heed her; and the momentthey arrived at the rectory, she hastened to shut herself in her room, and write the account of her adventure to her mother. How often, in hergirlish reveries, had she thought of that incident, that stranger! Andnow, by such a chance, and after so many years, to meet the Unknown byhis own hearth! and that Unknown to be Maltravers! It was as if a dreamhad come true. While she was yet musing--and the letter not yetbegun--she heard the sound of joy-bells in the distance. At once shedivined the cause; it was the welcome of the wanderer to his solitaryhome! CHAPTER IV. MAIS en connaissant votre condition naturelle, usez des moyens qui lui sont propres, et ne pretendez pas regner par une autre voie que par celle qui vous fait roi. *--PASCAL. * "But in understanding your natural condition, use the means which are proper to it; and pretend not to govern by any other way than by that which constitutes you governor. " IN the heart as in the ocean, the great tides ebb and flow. The waveswhich had once urged on the spirit of Ernest Maltravers to the rocks andshoals of active life had long since receded back upon the calm depths, and left the strand bare. With a melancholy and disappointed mind, hehad quitted the land of his birth; and new scenes, strange and wild, hadrisen before his wandering gaze. Wearied with civilization, and satedwith many of the triumphs for which civilized men drudge and toil, anddisquiet themselves in vain, he had plunged amongst hordes, scarceredeemed from primeval barbarism. The adventures through which he hadpassed, and in which life itself could only be preserved by waryvigilance and ready energies, had forced him, for a while, from theindulgence of morbid contemplations. His heart, indeed, had been leftinactive; but his intellect and his physical powers had been kept inhourly exercise. He returned to the world of his equals with a mindladen with the treasures of a various and vast experience, and with muchof the same gloomy moral as that which, on emerging from the Catacombs, assured the restless speculations of Rasselas of the vanity of human lifeand the folly of moral aspirations. Ernest Maltravers, never a faultless or completed character, fallingshort in practice of his own capacities, moral and intellectual, from hisvery desire to overpass the limits of the Great and Good, was seeminglyas far as heretofore from the grand secret of life. It was not so inreality; his mind had acquired what before it wanted, --_hardness_; and weare nearer to true virtue and true happiness when we demand too littlefrom men than when we exact too much. Nevertheless, partly from the strange life that had thrown him amongstmen whom safety itself made it necessary to command despotically, partlyfrom the habit of power and disdain of the world, his nature wasincrusted with a stern imperiousness of manner, often approaching to theharsh and morose, though beneath it lurked generosity and benevolence. Many of his younger feelings, more amiable and complex, had settled intoone predominant quality, which more or less had always characterizedhim, --Pride! Self-esteem made inactive, and Ambition made discontented, usually engender haughtiness. In Maltravers this quality, which, properly controlled and duly softened, is the essence and life of honour, was carried to a vice. He was perfectly conscious of its excess, but hecherished it as a virtue. Pride had served to console him in sorrow, andtherefore it was a friend; it had supported him when disgusted withfraud, or in resistance to violence, and therefore it was a champion anda fortress. It was a pride of a peculiar sort: it attached itself to noone point in especial, --not to talent, knowledge, mental gifts, stillless to the vulgar commonplaces of birth and fortune; it rather resultedfrom a supreme and wholesale contempt of all other men, and all theirobjects, --of ambition, of glory, of the hard business of life. Hisfavourite virtue was fortitude; it was on this that he now mainly valuedhimself. He was proud of his struggles against others, prouder still ofconquests over his own passions. He looked upon FATE as the arch enemyagainst whose attacks we should ever prepare. He fancied that againstfate he had thoroughly schooled himself. In the arrogance of his hearthe said, "I can defy the future. " He believed in the boast of the vainold sage, --"I am a world to myself!" In the wild career through whichhis later manhood had passed, it is true that he had not carried hisphilosophy into a rejection of the ordinary world. The shock occasionedby the death of Florence yielded gradually to time and change; and he hadpassed from the deserts of Africa and the East to the brilliant cities ofEurope. But neither his heart nor his reason had ever again beenenslaved by his passions. Never again had he known the softness ofaffection. Had he done so, the ice had been thawed, and the fountain hadflowed once more into the great deeps. He had returned to England, --hescarce knew wherefore, or with what intent, certainly not with any ideaof entering again upon the occupations of active life; it was, perhaps, only the weariness of foreign scenes and unfamiliar tongues, and thevague, unsettled desire of change, that brought him back to thefatherland. But he did not allow so unphilosophical a cause to himself:and, what was strange, he would not allow one much more amiable, andwhich was, perhaps, the truer cause, --the increasing age and infirmitiesof his old guardian, Cleveland, who prayed him affectionately to return. Maltravers did not like to believe that his heart was still so kind. Singular form of pride! No, he rather sought to persuade himself that heintended to sell Burleigh, to arrange his affairs finally, and then quitforever his native land. To prove to himself that this was the case, hehad intended at Dover to hurry at once to Burleigh, and merely write toCleveland that he was returned to England. But his heart would notsuffer him to enjoy this cruel luxury of self-mortification, and hishorses' heads were turned to Richmond when within a stage of London. Hehad spent two days with the good old man, and those two days had sowarmed and softened his feelings that he was quite appalled at his owndereliction from fixed principles! However, he went before Cleveland hadtime to discover that he was changed; and the old man had promised tovisit him shortly. This, then, was the state of Ernest Maltravers at the age ofthirty-six, --an age in which frame and mind are in their fullestperfection; an age in which men begin most keenly to feel that they arecitizens. With all his energies braced and strengthened; with his mindstored with profusest gifts; in the vigour of a constitution to which ahardy life had imparted a second and fresher youth; so trained by sternexperience as to redeem with an easy effort all the deficiencies andfaults which had once resulted from too sensitive an imagination and toohigh a standard for human actions; formed to render to his race the mostbrilliant and durable service, and to secure to himself the happinesswhich results from sobered fancy, a generous heart, and an approvingconscience, --here was Ernest Maltravers, backed, too, by the appliancesand gifts of birth and fortune, perversely shutting up genius, life, andsoul in their own thorny leaves, and refusing to serve the fools andrascals who were formed from the same clay, and gifted by the same God. Morbid and morose philosophy, begot by a proud spirit on a lonely heart! CHAPTER V. LET such amongst us as are willing to be children again, if it be only for an hour, resign ourselves to the sweet enchantment that steals upon the spirit when it indulges in the memory of early and innocent enjoyment. D. L. RICHARDSON. AT dinner, Caroline's lively recital of their adventures was receivedwith much interest, not only by the Merton family, but by some of theneighbouring gentry who shared the rector's hospitality. The suddenreturn of any proprietor to his old hereditary seat after a prolongedabsence makes some sensation in a provincial neighbourhood. In thiscase, where the proprietor was still young, unmarried, celebrated, andhandsome, the sensation was of course proportionably increased. Carolineand Evelyn were beset by questions, to which the former alone gave anydistinct reply. Caroline's account was, on the whole, gracious andfavourable, and seemed complimentary to all but Evelyn, who thought thatCaroline was a very indifferent portrait-painter. It seldom happens that a man is a prophet in his own neighbourhood; butMaltravers had been so little in the county, and in his former visit hislife had been so secluded, that he was regarded as a stranger. He hadneither outshone the establishments nor interfered with the sporting ofhis fellow-squires; and on the whole, they made just allowance for hishabits of distant reserve. Time, and his retirement from the busy scene, long enough to cause him to be missed, not long enough for new favouritesto supply his place, had greatly served to mellow and consolidate hisreputation, and his country was proud to claim him. Thus (thoughMaltravers would not have believed it had an angel told him) he was notspoken ill of behind his back: a thousand little anecdotes of hispersonal habits, of his generosity, independence of spirit, andeccentricity were told. Evelyn listened in rapt delight to all; she hadnever passed so pleasant an evening; and she smiled almost gratefully onthe rector, who was a man that always followed the stream, when he saidwith benign affability, "We must really show our distinguished neighbourevery attention, --we must be indulgent to his little oddities. Hispolitics are not mine, to be sure; but a man who has a stake in thecountry has a right to his own opinion, that was always my maxim, --thankHeaven, I am a very moderate man. We must draw him amongst us; it willbe our own fault, I am sure, if he is not quite domesticated at therectory. " "With such attraction, --yes, " said the thin curate, timidly bowing to theladies. "It would be a nice match for Miss Caroline, " whispered an old lady;Caroline overheard, and pouted her pretty lip. The whist-tables were nowset out, the music began, and Maltravers was left in peace. The next day Mr. Merton rode his pony over to Burleigh. Maltravers wasnot at home. He left his card, and a note of friendly respect, beggingMr. Maltravers to waive ceremony, and dine with them the next day. Somewhat to the surprise of the rector, he found that the active spiritof Maltravers was already at work. The long-deserted grounds were filledwith labourers; the carpenters were busy at the fences; the house lookedalive and stirring; the grooms were exercising the horses in thepark, --all betokened the return of the absentee. This seemed to denotethat Maltravers had come to reside; and the rector thought of Caroline, and was pleased at the notion. The next day was Cecilia's birthday, --and birthdays were kept at MertonRectory; the neighbouring children were invited. They were to dine onthe lawn, in a large marquee, and to dance in the evening. The hothousesyielded their early strawberries, and the cows, decorated with blueribbons, were to give syllabubs. The polite Caroline was not greatlyfascinated by pleasure of this kind; she graciously appeared at dinner, kissed the prettiest of the children, helped them to soup, and then, having done her duty, retired to her room to write letters. The childrenwere not sorry, for they were a little afraid of the grand Caroline; andthey laughed much more loudly, and made much more noise, when she wasgone--and the cake and strawberries appeared. Evelyn was in her element; she had, as a child, mixed so little withchildren, she had so often yearned for playmates, she was still sochildlike. Besides, she was so fond of Cecilia, she had looked forwardwith innocent delight to the day; and a week before had taken thecarriage to the neighbouring town to return with a carefully concealedbasket of toys, --dolls, sashes, and picture-books. But somehow or other, she did not feel so childlike as usual that morning; her heart was awayfrom the pleasure before her, and her smile was at first languid. But inchildren's mirth there is something so contagious to those who lovechildren; and now, as the party scattered themselves on the grass, andEvelyn opened the basket, and bade them with much gravity keep quiet, andbe good children, she was the happiest of the whole group. But she knewhow to give pleasure: and the basket was presented to Cecilia, that thelittle queen of the day might enjoy the luxury of being generous; and toprevent jealousy, the notable expedient of a lottery was suggested. "Then Evy shall be Fortune!" cried Cecilia; "nobody will be sorry to getanything from Evy, --and if any one is discontented Evy sha'n't kiss her. " Mrs. Merton, whose motherly heart was completely won by Evelyn's kindnessto the children, forgot all her husband's lectures, and willinglyticketed the prizes, and wrote the numbers of the lots on slips of papercarefully folded. A large old Indian jar was dragged from thedrawing-room and constituted the fated urn; the tickets were depositedtherein, and Cecilia was tying the handkerchief round Evelyn'seyes, --while Fortune struggled archly not to be as blind as she ought tobe, --and the children, seated in a circle, were in full joy andexpectation when there was a sudden pause. The laughter stopped; so didCissy's little hands. What could it be? Evelyn slipped the bandage, andher eyes rested on Maltravers! "Well, really, my dear Miss Cameron, " said the rector, who was by theside of the intruder, and who, indeed, had just brought him to the spot, "I don't know what these little folks will do to you next. " "I ought rather to be their victim, " said Maltravers, good-humouredly;"the fairies always punish us grown-up mortals for trespassing on theirrevels. " While he spoke, his eyes--those eyes, the most eloquent in theworld--dwelt on Evelyn (as, to cover her blushes, she took Cecilia in herarms, and appeared to attend to nothing else) with a look of suchadmiration and delight as a mortal might well be supposed to cast on somebeautiful fairy. Sophy, a very bold child, ran up to him. "How do, sir?" she lisped, putting up her face to be kissed; "how's the pretty peacock?" This opportune audacity served at once to renew the charm that had beenbroken, --to unite the stranger with the children. Here was acquaintanceclaimed and allowed in an instant. The next moment Maltravers was one ofthe circle, on the turf with the rest, as gay, and almost as noisy, --thathard, proud man, so disdainful of the trifles of the world! "But the gentleman must have a prize, too, " said Sophy, proud of her tallnew friend. "What's your other name; why do you have such a long, hardname?" "Call me Ernest, " said Maltravers. "Why don't we begin?" cried the children. "Evy, come, be a good child, miss, " said Sophy, as Evelyn, vexed andashamed, and half ready to cry, resisted the bandage. Mr. Merton interposed his authority; but the children clamoured, andEvelyn hastily yielded. It was Fortune's duty to draw the tickets fromthe urn, and give them to each claimant whose name was called; when itcame to the turn of Maltravers, the bandage did not conceal the blush andsmile of the enchanting goddess, and the hand of the aspirant thrilled asit touched hers. The children burst into screams of laughter when Cecilia gravely awardedto Maltravers the worst prize in the lot, --a blue ribbon, --which Sophy, however, greedily insisted on having; but Maltravers would not yield it. Maltravers remained all day at the rectory, and shared in the ball, --yes, he danced with Evelyn--he, Maltravers, who had never been known to dancesince he was twenty-two! The ice was fairly broken, --Maltravers was athome with the Mertons. And when he took his solitary walk to hissolitary house--over the little bridge, and through the shadowywood--astonished, perhaps, with himself, every one of the guests, fromthe oldest to the youngest, pronounced him delightful. Caroline, perhaps, might have been piqued some months ago that he did not dancewith _her_; but now, her heart--such as it was--felt preoccupied. CHAPTER VI. L'ESPRIT de l'homme est plus penetrant que consequent, et embrasse plus qu'il ne peat lier. *--VAUVENARGUES. * "The spirit of man is more penetrating than logical, and gathers more than it can garner. " AND now Maltravers was constantly with the Merton family; there was noneed of excuse for familiarity on his part. Mr. Merton, charmed to findhis advances not rejected, thrust intimacy upon him. One day they spent the afternoon at Burleigh, and Evelyn and Carolinefinished their survey of the house, --tapestry, and armour, pictures andall. This led to a visit to the Arabian horses. Caroline observed thatshe was very fond of riding, and went into ecstasies with one of theanimals, --the one, of course, with the longest tail. The next day thehorse was in the stables at the rectory, and a gallant epistle apologizedfor the costly gift. Mr. Merton demurred, but Caroline always had her own way; and so thehorse remained (no doubt, in much amazement and disdain) with theparson's pony, and the brown carriage horses. The gift naturallyconduced to parties on horseback--it was cruel entirely to separate theArab from his friends--and how was Evelyn to be left behind?--Evelyn, whohad never yet ridden anything more spirited than an old pony! Abeautiful little horse belonging to an elderly lady, now growing toostout to ride, was to be sold hard by. Maltravers discovered thetreasure, and apprised Mr. Merton of it--he was too delicate to affectliberality to the rich heiress. The horse was bought; nothing could goquieter; Evelyn was not at all afraid. They made two or three littleexcursions. Sometimes only Mr. Merton and Maltravers accompanied theyoung ladies, sometimes the party was more numerous. Maltravers appearedto pay equal attention to Caroline and her friend; still Evelyn'sinexperience in equestrian matters was an excuse for his being ever byher side. They had a thousand opportunities to converse; and Evelyn nowfelt more at home with him; her gentle gayety, her fanciful yet chastenedintellect, found a voice. Maltravers was not slow to discover thatbeneath her simplicity there lurked sense, judgment, and imagination. Insensibly his own conversation took a higher flight. With the freedomwhich his mature years and reputation gave him, he mingled eloquentinstruction with lighter and more trifling subjects; be directed herearnest and docile mind, not only to new fields of written knowledge, butto many of the secrets of Nature, subtle or sublime. He had a wide rangeof scientific as well as literary lore; the stars, the flowers, thephenomena of the physical world, afforded themes on which he descantedwith the fervent love of a poet and the easy knowledge of a sage. Mr. Merton, observing that little or nothing of sentiment mingled withtheir familiar intercourse, felt perfectly at ease; and knowing thatMaltravers had been intimate with Lumley, he naturally concluded that hewas aware of the engagement between Evelyn and his friend. MeanwhileMaltravers appeared unconscious that such a being as Lord Vargraveexisted. It is not to be wondered at that the daily presence, the delicateflattery of attention from a man like Maltravers, should strongly impressthe imagination, if not the heart, of a susceptible girl. Alreadyprepossessed in his favour, and wholly unaccustomed to a society whichcombined so many attractions, Evelyn regarded him with unspeakableveneration; to the darker shades in his character she was blind, --to her, indeed, they did not appear. True that once or twice in mixed societyhis disdainful and imperious temper broke hastily and harshly forth. Tofolly, to pretension, to presumption, he showed but slight forbearance. The impatient smile, the biting sarcasm, the cold repulse, that mightgall, yet could scarce be openly resented, betrayed that he was one whoaffected to free himself from the polished restraints of socialintercourse. He had once been too scrupulous in not wounding vanity; hewas now too indifferent to it. But if sometimes this unamiable trait ofcharacter, as displayed to others, chilled or startled Evelyn, thecontrast of his manner towards herself was a flattery too delicious notto efface all other recollections. To her ear his voice always softenedits tone; to her capacity of mind ever bent as by sympathy, notcondescension; to her--the young, the timid, the half-informed--to heralone he did not disdain to exhibit all the stores of his knowledge, allthe best and brightest colours of his mind. She modestly wondered at sostrange a preference. Perhaps a sudden and blunt compliment whichMaltravers once addressed to her may explain it. One day, when she hadconversed more freely and more fully than usual, he broke in upon herwith this abrupt exclamation, -- "Miss Cameron, you must have associated from your childhood withbeautiful minds. I see already that from the world, vile as it is, youhave nothing of contagion to fear. I have heard you talk on the mostvarious matters, on many of which your knowledge is imperfect; but youhave never uttered one mean idea, or one false sentiment. Truth seemsintuitive to you. " It was indeed this singular purity of heart which made to theworld-wearied man the chief charm in Evelyn Cameron. From this puritycame, as from the heart of a poet, a thousand new and heaven-taughtthoughts which had in them a wisdom of their own, --thoughts that oftenbrought the stern listener back to youth, and reconciled him with life. The wise Maltravers learned more from Evelyn than Evelyn did fromMaltravers. There was, however, another trait--deeper than that of temper--inMaltravers, and which was, unlike the latter, more manifest to her thanto others, --his contempt for all the things her young and freshenthusiasm had been taught to prize, the fame that endeared and hallowedhim to her eyes, the excitement of ambition, and its rewards. He spokewith such bitter disdain of great names and great deeds. "Children of alarger growth they were, " said he, one day, in answer to her defence ofthe luminaries of their kind, "allured by baubles as poor as the rattleand the doll's house. How many have been made great, as the word is, bytheir vices! Paltry craft won command to Themistocles; to escape hisduns, the profligate Caesar heads an army, and achieves his laurels;Brutus, the aristocrat, stabs his patron, that patricians might againtrample on plebeians, and that posterity might talk of _him_. The loveof posthumous fame--what is it but as puerile a passion for notoriety asthat which made a Frenchman I once knew lay out two thousand pounds insugar-plums? To be talked of--how poor a desire! Does it matter whetherit be by the gossips of this age or the next? Some men are urged on tofame by poverty--that is an excuse for their trouble; but there is nomore nobleness in the motive than in that which makes yon poor ploughmansweat in the eye of Phoebus. In fact, the larger part of eminent men, instead of being inspired by any lofty desire to benefit their species orenrich the human mind, have acted or composed, without any definiteobject beyond the satisfying a restless appetite for excitement, orindulging the dreams of a selfish glory. And when nobler aspirationshave fired them, it has too often been but to wild fanaticism andsanguinary crime. What dupes of glory ever were animated by a deeperfaith, a higher ambition, than the frantic followers of Mahomet, --taughtto believe that it was virtue to ravage the earth, and that they sprangfrom the battle-field into paradise? Religion and liberty, love ofcountry, what splendid motives to action! Lo, the results, when themotives are keen, the action once commenced! Behold the Inquisition, theDays of Terror, the Council of Ten, and the Dungeons of Venice!" Evelyn was scarcely fit to wrestle with these melancholy fallacies; buther instinct of truth suggested an answer. "What would society be if all men thought as you do, and acted up to thetheory? No literature, no art, no glory, no patriotism, no virtue, nocivilization! You analyze men's motives--how can you be sure you judgerightly? Look to the results, --our benefit, our enlightenment! If theresults be great, Ambition is a virtue, no matter what motive awakenedit. Is it not so?" Evelyn spoke blushingly and timidly. Maltravers, despite his own tenets, was delighted with her reply. "You reason well, " said he, with a smile. "But how are we sure that theresults are such as you depict them? Civilization, enlightenment, --theyare vague terms, hollow sounds. Never fear that the world will reason asI do. Action will never be stagnant while there are such things as goldand power. The vessel will move on--let the galley-slaves have it tothemselves. What I have seen of life convinces me that progress is notalways improvement. Civilization has evils unknown to the savage state;and _vice versa_. Men in all states seem to have much the sameproportion of happiness. We judge others with eyes accustomed to dwellon our own circumstances. I have seen the slave, whom we commiserate, enjoy his holiday with a rapture unknown to the grave freeman. I haveseen that slave made free, and enriched by the benevolence of his master;and he has been gay no more. The masses of men in all countries are muchthe same. If there are greater comforts in the hardy North, Providencebestows a fertile earth and a glorious heaven, and a mind susceptible toenjoyment as flowers to light, on the voluptuous indulgence of theItalian, or the contented apathy of the Hindoo. In the mightyorganization of good and evil, what can we vain individuals effect? Theywho labour most, how doubtful is their reputation! Who shall say whetherVoltaire or Napoleon, Cromwell or Caesar, Walpole or Pitt, has done mostgood or most evil? It is a question casuists may dispute on. Some of usthink that poets have been the delight and the lights of men; anotherschool of philosophy has treated them as the corrupters of thespecies, --panderers to the false glory of war, to the effeminacies oftaste, to the pampering of the passions above the reason. Nay, eventhose who have effected inventions that change the face of the earth--theprinting-press, gunpowder, the steam-engine, --men hailed as benefactorsby the unthinking herd, or the would-be sages, --have introduced illsunknown before, adulterating and often counterbalancing the good. Eachnew improvement in machinery deprives hundreds of food. Civilization isthe eternal sacrifice of one generation to the next. An awful sense ofthe impotence of human agencies has crushed down the sublime aspirationsfor mankind which I once indulged. For myself, I float on the greatwaters, without pilot or rudder, and trust passively to the winds, thatare the breath of God. " This conversation left a deep impression upon Evelyn; it inspired herwith a new interest in one in whom so many noble qualities lay dulled andtorpid, by the indulgence of a self-sophistry, which, girl as she was, she felt wholly unworthy of his powers. And it was this error inMaltravers that, levelling his superiority, brought him nearer to herheart. Ah, if she could restore him to his race! It was a dangerousdesire, but it intoxicated and absorbed her. Oh, how sweetly were those fair evenings spent, --the evenings of happyJune! And then, as Maltravers suffered the children to tease him intotalk about the wonders he had seen in the regions far away, how did thesoft and social hues of his character unfold themselves! There is in allreal genius so much latent playfulness of nature it almost seems as ifgenius never could grow old. The inscriptions that youth writes upon thetablets of an imaginative mind are, indeed, never whollyobliterated, --they are as an invisible writing, which gradually becomesclear in the light and warmth. Bring genius familiarly with the young, and it is as young as they are. Evelyn did not yet, therefore, observethe disparity of _years_ between herself and Maltravers. But thedisparity of knowledge and power served for the present to interdict toher that sweet feeling of equality in commune, without which love israrely a very intense affection in women. It is not so with men. But bydegrees she grew more and more familiar with her stern friend; and inthat familiarity there was perilous fascination to Maltravers. She couldlaugh him at any moment out of his most moody reveries; contradict with apretty wilfulness his most favourite dogmas; nay, even scold him, withbewitching gravity, if he was not always at the command of her wishes--orcaprice. At this time it seemed certain that Maltravers would fall inlove with Evelyn; but it rested on more doubtful probabilities whetherEvelyn would fall in love with him. CHAPTER VII. CONTRAHE vela, Et te littoribus cymba propinqua vehat. *--SENECA. * "Furl your sails, and let the next boat carry you to the shore. " "HAS not Miss Cameron a beautiful countenance?" said Mr. Merton toMaltravers, as Evelyn, unconscious of the compliment, sat at a littledistance, bending down her eyes to Sophy, who was weaving daisy-chains ona stool at her knee, and whom she was telling not to talk loud, --forMerton had been giving Maltravers some useful information respecting themanagement of his estate; and Evelyn was already interested in all thatcould interest her friend. She had one excellent thing in woman, hadEvelyn Cameron: despite her sunny cheerfulness of temper she was _quiet_;and she had insensibly acquired, under the roof of her musing and silentmother, the habit of never disturbing others. What a blessed secret isthat in the intercourse of domestic life! "Has not Miss Cameron a beautiful countenance?" Maltravers started at the question, --it was a literal translation of hisown thought at that moment. He checked the enthusiasm that rose to hislip, and calmly re-echoed the word, -- "Beautiful indeed!" "And so sweet-tempered and unaffected; she has been admirably brought up. I believe Lady Vargrave is a most exemplary woman. Miss Cameron will, indeed, be a treasure to her betrothed husband. He is to be envied. " "Her betrothed husband!" said Maltravers, turning very pale. "Yes; Lord Vargrave. Did you not know that she was engaged to him fromher childhood? It was the wish, nay, command, of the late lord, whobequeathed her his vast fortune, if not on that condition, at least onthat understanding. Did you never hear of this before?" While Mr. Merton spoke, a sudden recollection returned to Maltravers. He_had_ heard Lumley himself refer to the engagement, but it had been inthe sick chamber of Florence, --little heeded at the time, and swept fromhis mind by a thousand after-thoughts and scenes. Mr. Mertoncontinued, -- "We expect Lord Vargrave down soon. He is an ardent lover, I conclude;but public life chains him so much to London. He made an admirablespeech in the Lords last night; at least, our party appear to think so. They are to be married when Miss Cameron attains the age of eighteen. " Accustomed to endurance, and skilled in the proud art of concealingemotion, Maltravers betrayed to the eye of Mr. Merton no symptom ofsurprise or dismay at this intelligence. If the rector had conceived anyprevious suspicion that Maltravers was touched beyond mere admiration forbeauty, the suspicion would have vanished as he heard his guest coldlyreply, -- "I trust Lord Vargrave may deserve his happiness. But, to return to Mr. Justis; you corroborate my own opinion of that smooth-spoken gentleman. " The conversation flowed back to business. At last, Maltravers rose todepart. "Will you not dine with us to-day?" said the hospitable rector. "Many thanks, --no; I have much business to attend to at home for somedays to come. " "Kiss Sophy, Mr. Ernest, --Sophy very good girl to-day. Let the prettybutterfly go, because Evy said it was cruel to put it in a card-box; kissSophy. " Maltravers took the child (whose heart he had completely won) in hisarms, and kissed her tenderly; then advancing to Evelyn, he held out hishand, while his eyes were fixed upon her with an expression of deep andmournful interest, which she could not understand. "God bless you, Miss Cameron, " he said, and his lip quivered. Days passed, and they saw no more of Maltravers. He excused himself onpretence, now of business, now of other engagements, from all theinvitations of the rector. Mr. Merton unsuspectingly accepted theexcuse; for he knew that Maltravers was necessarily much occupied. His arrival had now spread throughout the country; and such of his equalsas were still in B-----shire hastened to offer congratulations, and presshospitality. Perhaps it was the desire to make his excuses to Mertonvalid which prompted the master of Burleigh to yield to the otherinvitations that crowded on him. But this was not all, --Maltraversacquired in the neighbourhood the reputation of a man of business. Mr. Justis was abruptly dismissed; with the help of the bailiff Maltraversbecame his own steward. His parting address to this personage wascharacteristic of the mingled harshness and justice of Maltravers. "Sir, " said he, as they closed their accounts, "I discharge you becauseyou are a rascal, --there can be no dispute about that; you have plunderedyour owner, yet you have ground his tenants, and neglected the poor. Myvillages are filled with paupers, my rent-roll is reduced a fourth; andyet, while some of my tenants appear to pay nominal rents (why, you bestknow), --others are screwed up higher than any man's in the country. Youare a rogue, Mr. Justis, --your own account-books show it; and if I sendthem to a lawyer, you would have to refund a sum that I could apply veryadvantageously to the rectification of your blunders. " "I hope, sir, " said the steward, conscience-stricken and appalled, --"Ihope you will not ruin me; indeed, indeed, if I was called upon torefund, I should go to jail. " "Make yourself easy, sir. It is just that I should suffer as well asyou. My neglect of my own duties tempted you to roguery. You werehonest under the vigilant eye of Mr. Cleveland. Retire with your gains:if you are quite hardened, no punishment can touch you; if you are not, it is punishment enough to stand there gray-headed, with one foot in thegrave, and hear yourself called a rogue, and know that you cannot defendyourself, --go!" Maltravers next occupied himself in all the affairs that a mismanagedestate brought upon him. He got rid of some tenants, he made newarrangements with others; he called labour into requisition by a varietyof improvements; he paid minute attention to the poor, not in theweakness of careless and indiscriminate charity, by which popularity isso cheaply purchased, and independence so easily degraded, --no, his maincare was to stimulate industry and raise hope. The ambition andemulation that he so vainly denied in himself, he found his most usefullevers in the humble labourers whose characters he had studied, whosecondition he sought to make themselves desire to elevate. Unconsciouslyhis whole practice began to refute his theories. The abuses of the oldPoor Laws were rife in his neighbourhood; his quick penetration, andperhaps his imperious habits of decision, suggested to him many of thebest provisions of the law now called into operation; but he was too wiseto be the Philosopher Square of a system. He did not attempt too much;and he recognized one principle, which, as yet, the administrators of thenew Poor-Laws have not sufficiently discovered. One main object of thenew code was, by curbing public charity, to task the activity ofindividual benevolence. If the proprietor or the clergyman find underhis own eye isolated instances of severity, oppression, or hardship in ageneral and salutary law, instead of railing against the law, he ought toattend to the individual instances; and private benevolence ought to keepthe balance of the scales even, and be the makeweight wherever there is ajust deficiency of national charity. * It was this which, in the modifiedand discreet regulations that he sought to establish on his estates, Maltravers especially and pointedly attended to. Age, infirmity, temporary distress, unmerited destitution, found him a steady, watchful, indefatigable friend. In these labours, commenced with extraordinarypromptitude, and the energy of a single purpose and stern mind, Maltravers was necessarily brought into contact with the neighbouringmagistrates and gentry. He was combating evils and advancing objects inwhich all were interested; and his vigorous sense, and his pastparliamentary reputation, joined with the respect which in provincesalways attaches to ancient birth, won unexpected and general favour tohis views. At the rectory they heard of him constantly, not only throughoccasional visitors, but through Mr. Merton, who was ever thrown in hisway; but he continued to keep himself aloof from the house. Every one(Mr. Merton excepted) missed him, --even Caroline, whose able thoughworldly mind could appreciate his conversation; the children mourned fortheir playmate, who was so much more affable than their ownstiff-neckclothed brothers; and Evelyn was at least more serious andthoughtful than she had ever been before, and the talk of others seemedto her wearisome, trite, and dull. * The object of parochial reform is not that of economy alone; not merely to reduce poor-rates. The ratepayer ought to remember that the more he wrests from the grip of the sturdy mendicant, the more he ought to bestow on undeserved distress. Without the mitigations of private virtue, every law that benevolists could make would be harsh. Was Maltravers happy in his new pursuits? His state of mind at that timeit is not easy to read. His masculine spirit and haughty temper werewrestling hard against a feeling that had been fast ripening intopassion; but at night, in his solitary and cheerless home, a vision, tooexquisite to indulge, would force itself upon him, till he started fromthe revery, and said to his rebellious heart: "A few more years, and thouwilt be still. What in this brief life is a pang more or less? Betterto have nothing to care for, so wilt thou defraud Fate, thy deceitfulfoe! Be contented that thou art alone!" Fortunate was it, then, forMaltravers, that he was in his native land, not in climes whereexcitement is in the pursuit of pleasure rather than in the exercise ofduties. In the hardy air of the liberal England, he was already, thoughunknown to himself, bracing and ennobling his dispositions and desires. It is the boast of this island that the slave whose foot touches the soilis free. The boast may be enlarged. Where so much is left to thepeople, where the life of civilization, not locked up in the tyranny ofCentral Despotism, spreads, vivifying, restless, ardent, through everyvein of the healthful body, the most distant province, the obscurestvillage, has claims on our exertions, our duties, and forces us intoenergy and citizenship. The spirit of liberty, that strikes the chainfrom the slave, binds the freeman to his brother. This is the Religionof Freedom. And hence it is that the stormy struggles of free Stateshave been blessed with results of Virtue, of Wisdom, and of Genius by Himwho bade us love one another, --not only that love in itself is excellent, but that from love, which in its widest sense is but the spiritual termfor liberty, whatever is worthiest of our solemn nature has its birth.