CHAPTER Xl

"There is more complacency in the negligence of some men, than in what is called the good breeding of others; and the little absences of the heart are often more interesting and engaging than the punctilious attention of a thousand professed sacrificers to the graces."--MACKENZIE.

POWERFUL emotions are the certain levellers of ordinary feelings. When Mary met Colonel Lennox in the breakfast-room the following morning, he accosted her not with the ceremony of a stranger but with the frankness of a heart careless of common forms, and spoke of his mother with indications of sensibility which he vainly strove to repress. Mary knew that she had sought to conceal her real situation from him; but it seemed a vague suspicion of the truth had, crossed his mind, and having with difficulty obtained a short leave of absence he had hastened to have either his hopes or fears realised.

"And now that I know the worst," said he, "I know it only to deplore it.

Far from alleviating, presence seems rather to aggravate my poor mother's misfortune. Oh! it is heartrending to see the strivings of these longing eyes to look upon the face of those she loves!"

"Ah!" thought Mary, "were they to behold that face now, how changed would it appear!" as she contrasted it with the portrait that hung immediately over the head of the original. The one in all the brightness of youth--the radiant eyes, the rounded cheek, the fair open brow, spoke only of hope, and health, and joy. Those eyes were now dimmed by sorrow; the cheek was wasted with toil; the brow was clouded by cares. Yet, "as it is the best part of beauty which a picture cannot express," [1]

so there is something superior to the mere charms of form and colour; and an air of high-toned feeling, of mingled vivacity and sensibility, gave a grandeur to the form and an expression to the countenance which more than atoned for the want of youth's more brilliant attributes.

[1] Lord Bacon.

At least, so thought Mary; but her comparisons were interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Lennox. Her son flew towards her, and taking her arm from that of her attendant, led her to her seat, and sought to render her those little offices which her helplessness required.

"My dear Charles," said she, with a smile, as he tried to adjust her cushions, "your hands have not been used to this work. Your arm is my best support, but a gentler hand must smooth my pillow. Mary, my love, where are--? Give me your hand." Then placing it in that of her son-- "Many a tear has this hand wiped from your mother's eyes!"

Mary, blushing deeply, hastily withdrew it. She felt it as a sort of appeal to Colonel Lennox's feelings; and a sense of wounded delicacy made her shrink from being thus recommended to his grat.i.tude. But Colonel Lennox seemed too much absorbed in his own painful reflections to attach such a meaning to his mother's words; and though they excited him to regard Mary for a moment with peculiar interest, yet, in a little while, he relapsed into the mournful reverie from which he had been roused.

Colonel Lennox was evidently not a show-off character. He seemed superior to the mere vulgar aim of making himself agreeable--an aim which has much oftener its source in vanity than in benevolence. Yet the exerted himself to meet his mother's cheerfulness; though as often as he looked at her, or raised his eyes to the youthful group that hung before them, his changing hue and quivering lip betrayed the anguish he strove to hide.

Breakfast ended, Mary rose to prepare for her departure, in spite of the solicitations of her friend that she should remain till the following day.

"Surely, my dear Mary," said she in an imploring accent, "you will not refuse to bestow one day of happiness upon me?--and it is _such _a happiness to see my Charles and you together. I little thought that ever I should have been so blessed. Ah! I begin to think G.o.d has yet some good in store for my last days! Do not then leave me just when I am beginning to taste of joy!"--And she clung to her with that pathetic look which Mary had ever found irresistble.

But upon this occasion she steeled her heart against all supplication.

It was the first time she had ever turned from the entreaty of old age or infirmity; and those only who have lived in the habitual practice of administering to the happiness of others can conceive how much it costs the generous heart to resist even the weaknesses of those it loves. But Mary felt she had already sacrificed too much to affection, and she feared the reproaches and ridicule that awaited her return to Beech Park. She therefore gently, though steadily, adhered to her resolution, only softening it by a promise of returning soon.

"What an angel goes there!" exclaimed Mrs. Lennox to her son, as Mary left the room to prepare for her departure. "Ah! Charles, could I but hope to see her yours!"

Colonel Lennox smiled--"That must be when I am an angel myself then. A poor weather-beaten soldier like me must be satisfied with something less."

"But is she not a lovely creature?" asked his mother, with some solicitude.

"Angels, you know, are always fair," replied Colonel Lennox laughingly, trying to parry this attack upon his heart.

"Ah! Charles, that is not being serious. But young people now are different from what they were in my day. There is no such thing as falling in love now, you are all so cautious."

And the good old lady's thoughts reverted to the time when the gay and gallant Captain Lennox had fallen desperately in love with her, as she danced a minuet in a blue satin sacque and Bologna hat at a county ball.

"You forget, my dear mother, what a knack I had in falling in love ten years ago. Since then, I confess I have got rather out of the way of it; but a little, a very little practice, I am sure, will make me as expert as ever;--and then I promise you shall have no cause to complain of my caution."

Mrs. Lennox sighed and shook her head. She had long cherished the hope that if ever her son came home it would be to fall in love with and marry her beloved Mary; and she had dwelt upon this favourite scheme till it had taken entire possession of her mind. In the simplicity of her heart she also imagined that it would greatly help to accelerate the event were she to suggest the idea to her son, as she had no doubt but that the object of her affections must necessarily become the idol of his. So little did she know of human nature that the very means she used to accomplish her purpose were the most effectual she could have contrived to defeat it. Such is man, that his pride revolts from all attempts to influence his affections. The weak and the undiscerning, indeed, are often led to "choose love by another's eyes;" but the lofty and independent spirit loves to create for itself those feelings which lose half their charms when their source is not in the depths of their own heart.

It was with no slight mortification that Mrs. Lennox saw Mary depart without having made the desired impression on the heart of her son; or, what was still more to be feared, of his having secured himself a place in her favour. But again and again she made Mary repeat her promise of returning soon, and spending some days with her. "And then," thought she, "things will all come right. When they live together, and see each other constantly, they cannot possibly avoid loving each other, and all will be as it should be. G.o.d grant I may live to see it!"

And hope softened the pang of disappointment.

CHAPTER XII.

"Qui vous a pu plonger dans cette humeur chagrine, A-t-on par quelque edit reforme la cuisine?"

BOILEAU.

MARY'S inexperienced mind expected to find, on her return to Beech Park, some vestige of the pleasures of the preceding night--some shadows, at least, of gaiety, to show what happiness she had sacrificed what delight her friends had enjoyed; but for the first time she beheld the hideous aspect of departed pleasure. Drooping evergreens, dying lamps, dim transparencies, and faded flowers, met her view as she crossed the hall; while the public rooms were covered with dust from the chalked floors, and wax from the droppings of the candles. Everything, in short, looked tawdry and forlorn. Nothing was in its place--nothing looked as it used to do--and she stood amazed at the disagreeable metamorphose an things had undergone.

Hearing some one approach, she turned and beheld Dr. Redgill enter.

"So--it's only you, Miss Mary!" exclaimed he in a tone of chagrin. "I was in hopes it was some of the women-servants. 'Pon my soul, it's disgraceful to think that in this house there is not a woman stirring yet! I have sent five messages by my man to let Mrs. Brown know that I have been waiting for my breakfast these two hours; but this confounded ball has turned everything upside down! You are come to a pretty scene,"

continued he, looking round with a mixture of fury and contempt,--"a very pretty scene! 'Pon my honour, I blush to see myself standing here!

Just look at these rags!" kicking a festoon of artificial roses that had fallen to the ground. "Can anything be more despicable?--and to think that rational creatures in possession of their senses should take pleasure in the sight of such trumpery! 'Pon my soul, I--I--declare it confounds me! I really used to think Lady Emily (for this is all her doing) had some sense--but such a display of folly as this!"

"Pshaw!" said Mary, "it is not fair in us to stand here a.n.a.lysing the dregs of gaiety after the essence is gone. I daresay this was a very brilliant scene last night."

"Brilliant scene, indeed!" repeated the Doctor in a most; wrathful accent: "I really am amazed--I--yes--brilliant enough--if you mean that there was a glare of light enough to blind the devil. I thought my eyes would have been put out the short time I stayed; indeed, I don't think this one has recovered it yet," advancing a fierce blood-shot eye almost close to Mary's. "Don't you think it looks a _leettle_ inflamed, Miss Mary?"

Mary gave it as her opinion that it did.

"Well, that's all I've got by this business; but I never was consulted about it. I thought it my duty, however, to give a _leettle_ hint to the Earl, when the thing was proposed. 'My Lord,' says I, 'your house is your own; you have a right to do what you please with it; burn it; pull it down; make a purgatory of it; but, for G.o.d's sake, don't give a ball in it!' The ball was given, and you see the consequences. A ball! and what's a ball, that a whole family should be thrown into disorder for it?"

"I daresay, to those who are engaged in it, it is a very delightful amus.e.m.e.nt at the time."

"Delightful fiddlestick! 'Pon my soul, I'm surprised at you, Miss Mary!

I thought your staying away was a pretty strong proof of your good sense; but I--hem! Delightful amus.e.m.e.nt, indeed! to see human creatures twirling one another about all night like so many monkeys--making perfect mountebanks of themselves. Really, I look upon dancing as a most degrading and a most immoral practice. 'Pon my soul, I--_I_ couldn't have the face to waltz, I know; and it's all on account of this delightful amus.e.m.e.nt--" with a convulsive shake of his chin--"that things are in this state--myself kept waiting for my breakfast two hours and a half beyond my natural time: not that I mind myself at all--that's neither here nor there--and if I was the only sufferer, I'm sure I should be the very last to complain--but I own it vexes--it distresses me. 'Pon my honour, can't stand seeing a whole family going to destruction!"

The Doctor's agitation was so great that Mary really pitied him.

"It is rather hard that you cannot get any breakfast since you had no enjoyment in the ball," said she. "I daresay, were I to apply to Mrs.

Brown, she would trust me with her keys; and I shall be happy too officiate for her in making your tea."

"Thank you, Miss Mary," replied the Doctor coldly. "I'm very much obliged to you. It is really a very polite offer on your part; but--hem!--you might have observed that I never take tea to breakfast. I keep that for the evening; most people, I know, do the reverse, but they're in the wrong. Coffee is too nutritive for the evening. The French themselves are in an error there. That woman, that Mrs. Brown knows what I like; in fact, she's the only woman I ever met with who could make coffee--coffee that I thought drinkable. She knows that--and she knows that I like it to a moment--and yet---"

Here the Doctor blew his nose, and Mary thought she perceived a tear twinkle in his eye. Finding she was incapable of administering consolation, she was about to quit the room, when the Doctor, recovering himself, called after her.

"If you happen to be going the way of Mrs. Brown's room, Miss Mary, I would take it very kind if you could just contrive to let her know what time of day it is; and that I have not tasted a mouthful of anything since last night at twelve o'clock, when I took a _leettle_ morsel of supper in my own room."

Mary took advantage of the deep sigh that followed to make her escape; and as she crossed the vestibule she descried the Doctor's man, hurrying along with a coffee pot, which she had no doubt would pour consolation into his master's soul.

As Mary was aware of her mother's dislike to introduce her into company, she flattered herself she had for once done something to merit her approbation by having absented herself on this occasion. But Mary was a novice in the ways of temper, and had yet to learn that to study to please, and to succeed, are very different things. Lady Juliana had been decidedly averse to her appearing at the ball, but she was equally disposed to take offence at her having stayed away; besides, she had not been pleased herself, and her gla.s.s told her she looked jaded and ill.

She was therefore, as her maid expressed it, in a most particular bad temper; and Mary had to endure reproaches, of which she could only make out that although she ought not to have been present she was much to blame in having been absent. Lady Emily's indignation was in a different style. There was a heat and energy in her anger that never failed to overwhelm her victim at once. But it was more tolerable than the tedious, fretful ill humour of the other; and after she had fairly exhausted herself in invectives, and ridicule, and insolence, and drawn tears from her cousin's eyes by the bitterness of her language, she heartily embraced her, vowed she liked her better than anybody in the world, and that she was a fool for minding anything she said to her.

"I a.s.sure you," said she, "I was only tormenting you a little, and you must own you deserve that; but you can't suppose I meant half what I said; that is a _betise_ I can't conceive you guilty of. You see I am much more charitable in my conclusions than you. You have no scruple in thinking me a wretch, though I am too good-natured to set you down for a fool. Come, brighten up, and I'll tell you all about the ball. How I hate it, were it only for having made your nose red! But really the thing in itself was detestable. Job himself must have gone mad at the provocations I met with. In the first place, I had set my heart upon introducing you with eclat, and instead of which you preferred psalm-singing with Mrs. Lennox, or sentiment with her son--I don't know which. In the next place there was a dinner in Bath, that kept away some of the best men; then, after waiting an hour and a half for Frederick to begin the ball with Lady Charlotte M---, I went myself to his room, and found him lounging by the fire with a volume of Rousseau in his hand, not dressed, and quite surprised that I should think his presence at all necessary; and when he did make his entre, conceive my feelings at seeing him single out Lady Placid as his partner! I certainly would rather have seen him waltzing with a hyena! I don't believe he knew or cared whom he danced with--unless, perhaps, it had been Adelaide, but she was engaged; and, by-the-bye, there certainly is some sort of a liaison there; how it will end I don't know; it depends upon on themselves, for I'm sure the course of their love may run smooth if they choose--I know nothing to interrupt it. Perhaps, indeed, it may become stagnate from that very circ.u.mstance; for you know, or perhaps you don't know, 'there is no spirit under heaven that works with such delusion.'"