CHAPTER III. Oh! if thou hover'st round my walk, And every tear is full of thee; Should then the weary eye of grief, In slumber find a short relief, O visit thou my soothing dream! Thomson. MARY was only called from the sad perplexity of Magdalene's mournful tale, to hear the reiterated complaints of her mother, as to the want of money and the impossibility of managing her affairs, unless she could get them entirely into her own hands. Uncle Horace's absurdity in undertaking a useless journey, was again descanted on, and his accident lost sight of, in the feeling of annoyance, which the prospect of his intended visit occasioned. Mary ventured to question her mother as to what had become of various sums which she knew had been in her possession, and the wonder why she should require money, more than once occurred to her; for she knew that though she had received a great deal, no tradesmen's bills had been discharged, and that her personal expenses were most trifling: though they had their own carriage and coachman, they did not even keep horses, nor had they occasion to hire them; for whenever Mary went out, she accompanied either Lady Norley, or Lady Ellen. Mrs. Brown Lorton had never passed beyond the garden enclosures since her residence on the island; and nothing could have come upon Mary with such startling suddenness, as the fact of her mother's late transformation into a would-be woman of business. She, who formerly would not suffer Mary to learn accounts, to place three figures together, so as to know their value-a fact which had occasioned many words between her and Horace Brownshe all of a sudden to conceive so violent a partiality for "horrid business," was indeed startling; and the sharpness with which on this, as well as on other themes, she reproved her daughter for questioning her motives, or wondering how the resources had been applied, which Mary knew had been placed at her disposal, made that daughter secretly resolve never again to ask a question on the subject. It is painful in the extreme, to watch the effects of temper working on a kind and generous nature; but if it has a motive, you can bear up against it, you know that its bitterness will pass away, and the succeeding smiles have double sweetness; but Mary was ignorant of the motive and the cause-she saw her beautiful mother the victim of either violent passion, or a more wearing discontent: had she loved her less tenderly, she would have felt it less-but she loved her with the deep and enthusiastic devotion, which like the gushing spring, increases in purity and quantity, from being frequently called upon to invigorate and refresh. When her passion and her pevishness had worn itself out-until refreshed by tears-Mrs. Brown Lorton had again recourse to "the poisonous opium," and again sank into the fevered and disturbed sleep which crowds the throbbing brain "with visions wild." As usual also, Mary watched by her side, for she had heard, in her latter watching, words escape her lips, which she thanked God, no ear, save her own, had caught; and she had, under the pretext that Magdalene's health required a higher atmosphere, occupied her bed in Mrs. Lorton's room as her nightly domicile, where, poor girl, she more frequently watched and prayed than slept; indeed her cheek in a few days had grown pale, and her eyes heavy. Lady Norley, recommended camphor. Lady Ellen shook her head, and talked of comfort; but finding that neither prescription in three days had improved the patient's case, she began to think that her sacrifice had been made in vain, and this feeling added another poisoned arrow to her quiver. The full round tears rolled down her cheeks, as in the solitude of her own chamber she thought over the dreams of her almost uncherished childhood--had it not been for her mother, she would have felt almost friendless with those for whom she had sacrificed so much; she was only an object of second rate importance-her cousin treated her exactly as a friend, and she really wished no more: but where the friendship of man for woman is totally divested of affection, let the philosophers say what they please, his friendship is cold; it is not what it is from man to man, from woman to woman; though perhaps the most perfectly untainted friendship in the world is that which a woman feels for a man she really esteems. A man cannot consult a female friend upon half the business in which he is engaged; and Lady Ellen Revis had fancied more than once, that when her cousin advised with her on some points, he thought he condescended. Lady Ellen's sensitive and acute mind readily perceived this, and perhaps sometimes imagined it, when it really did not exist. It galled her pride, and Mary's unavoidable reserve as to her mother's temper and abstraction wounded her almost as keenly! "What have I sacrificed so much for, if neither my cousin nor Mary are rendered happy? to what purpose have I driven not only love, but ambition from my heart?" she would mentally exclaim; and then, conscious of the rectitude and nobility of her intentions, she would repose her aching heart upon itself. How is it that our most glorious feelings return unto ourselves?—we send forth into the world the hope, the spirit, the generosity of our fervid and honourable hearts; but they are to rest on, or an olive leaf to bring back; our like Noah's dove; we send them forth, and it may be, that they cannot find either a place hope returns, her eyelids heavy with tears; the landscape which smiled before her was but the treacherous mirage of the desert, and the hill and the water have vanished into air-our buoyant spirit comes back with broken wings-our generosity stripped to very nakedness by those she succoured-our love but I must turn the picture-I would not damp the spirits of the young; the old know more of this than I do, whose years have neither been very many, nor, I bless Heaven, very sad. The sadness I have witnessed has made me more thoughtful and sorrowful than that which I have felt; but my time must come, and then-for strength to bear it. CHAPTER IV. Who, as she smiles in the silvery light, HERVEY. THERE is a creek between Shanklin and Bon Church, called-I really forget what--and anchored beneath the shadow of its cliff was a small sail-boat, a sort of skiff, better trimmed, painted, and appointed, than such boats generally are: two gentlemen sat therein, having, to all appearance, lunched, or it might be dined, for the evening had nearly closed; and though the weather was calm and still, they wrapped their boat cloaks round them, and seemed to feel the keenness of the sea-breeze. Their attendants had landed, and were seated on the strand, sharing the remnants of the repast between them, while their masters smoked their cigars, and enjoyed some wine, which they frequently applied to their lips. At first their conversation was carried on in a low tone, to which the waters murmured a soft accompaniment: afterwards, whether their potations were sufficiently deep to account, or not, for the fact, I cannot say, but after a time they discoursed of their affairs more loudly. 66 Why not marry the lady at once?" demanded the younger of the two. "If you have the control over her of which you boast, surely that would be the readiest way to possess yourself of her and of her property." "The first," replied his companion, "I do not want; and--but this really is a secret,---the second, I am not quite sure that she possesses." "Diable!" exclaimed the other, opening upon the speaker a pair of large grey eyes to their fullest extent, "you are not serious?" "I never was more serious, believe me,” answered his companion. "It is a serious subject. You do not seem to comprehend what I have told you before, that if I do not derive assistance from that quarter, I really know not what I shall do, or how I shall turn me. The fact cannot be denied, that as the world improves, it requires a much greater quantity of talent to speculate upon foibles and weaknesses, which grow less and less every day." "I have often thought," observed the other, "that you judge too kindly of human nature. Now, do you not perceive that as the foibles and weaknesses pair off, their place is taken by luxury, and a species of well-bred knavery, which serve your thorough-bred rogues as whetstones whereon to sharpen their ingenuity? It is a shame to see a fellow of your infinite variety content himself with poor complainings against the march of improvement. Trust me, the march of roguery and bravoing will keep it company; it'll go hard if there is not, at least, one Brutus for every Cæsar." "Muskito, I grow old!" exclaimed his companion, looking at the same time upon his handsome leg with evident complacency; "and besides, I never had your genius for invention." "I assure you count, I hardly ever invented--illustrating was my forte," replied his companion. $6 Is, you mean," said the count. "I do not know what good it does," replied Muskito. "I have no sphere of action left: my success was envied, and I was destroyed, in the opinion of a 'liberal and enlightened public."" "Faith, though, your success was extraordinary for a time, notwithstanding your tell-tale eyes, (true English grey, by the mass!) you went off amazingly well, aided by bad English, French sentiment, Italian poetry, and (I really am in earnest) the most extraordinary facility atat" "Lying!" put in his friend. "Well, so it was-lying in the most extended sense of the word. But what can a poor devil do, who has lost what the world calls character? He is thrown on his own resources, and were he to be honest, no one would believe it. Chance or misfortune makes rogues, and necessity keeps them in their roguery. I intended reforming once, seriously intended it, upon my honour!" "When was that? so extraordinary occurrence deserves a register!" "When I was in love!" |