Alice, or the Mysteries — Complete
"You do not remember your father, I believe?" said Maltravers.
"No father but Lord Vargrave; while he lived, I never knew the loss of
one."
"Does your mother resemble you?"
"Ah, I wish I could think so; it is the sweetest countenance!"
"Have you no picture of her?"
"None; she would never consent to sit."
"Your father was a Cameron; I have known some of that name."
"No relation of ours: my mother says we have none living."
"And have we no chance of seeing Lady Vargrave in B-----shire?"
"She never leaves home; but I hope to return soon to Brook-Green."
Maltravers sighed, and the conversation took a new turn.
"I have to thank you for the books you so kindly sent; I ought to have
returned them ere this," said Evelyn.
"I have no use for them. Poetry has lost its charm for me,--especially
that species of poetry which unites with the method and symmetry
something of the coldness of Art. How did you like Alfieri?"
"His language is a kind of Spartan French," answered Evelyn, in one of
those happy expressions which every now and then showed the quickness of
her natural talent.
"Yes," said Maltravers, smiling, "the criticism is acute. Poor Alfieri!
in his wild life and his stormy passions he threw out all the redundance
of his genius; and his poetry is but the representative of his thoughts,
not his emotions. Happier the man of genius who lives upon his reason,
and wastes feeling only on his verse!"
"You do not think that we _waste_ feeling upon human beings?" said
Evelyn, with a pretty laugh.
"Ask me that question when you have reached my years, and can look
upon fields on which you have lavished your warmest hopes, your noblest
aspirations, your tenderest affections, and see the soil all profitless
and barren. 'Set not your heart on the things of earth,' saith the
Preacher."
Evelyn was affected by the tone, the words, and the melancholy
countenance of the speaker. "You, of all men, ought not to think thus,"
said she, with a sweet eagerness; "you who have done so much to awaken
and to soften the heart in others; you--who--" she stopped short, and
added, more gravely. "Ah, Mr. Maltravers, I cannot reason with you, but
I can hope you will refute your own philosophy."
"Were your wish fulfilled," answered Maltravers, almost with sternness,
and with an expression of great pain in his compressed lips, "I should
have to thank you for much misery." He rose abruptly, and turned away.
"How have I offended him?" thought Evelyn, sorrowfully; "I never speak
but to wound him. What _have_ I done?"
She could have wished, in her simple kindness, to follow him, and make
peace; but he was now in a coterie of strangers; and shortly afterwards
he left the room, and she did not see him again for weeks.
CHAPTER VII.
NIHIL est aliud magnum quam multa minuta.*--VETUS. AUCTOR.
* "There is nothing so great as the collection of the minute."
AN anxious event disturbed the smooth current of cheerful life at Merton
Rectory. One morning when Evelyn came down, she missed little Sophy,
who had contrived to establish for herself the undisputed privilege of
a stool beside Miss Cameron at breakfast. Mrs. Merton appeared with
a graver face than usual. Sophy was unwell, was feverish; the scarlet
fever had been in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Merton was very uneasy.
"It is the more unlucky, Caroline," added the mother, turning to Miss
Merton, "because to-morrow, you know, we were to have spent a few days
at Knaresdean to see the races. If poor Sophy does not get better, I
fear you and Miss Cameron must go without me. I can send to Mrs. Hare to
be your chaperon; she would be delighted."
"Poor Sophy!" said Caroline; "I am very sorry to hear she is unwell; but
I think Taylor would take great care of her; you surely need not stay,
unless she is much worse."
Mrs. Merton, who, tame as she seemed, was a fond and attentive mother,
shook her head and said nothing; but Sophy was much worse before noon.
The doctor was sent for, and pronounced it to be the scarlet fever.
It was now necessary to guard against the infection. Caroline had had
the complaint, and she willingly shared in her mother's watch of love
for two or three hours. Mrs. Merton gave up the party. Mrs. Hare (the
wife of a rich squire in the neighbourhood) was written to, and that
lady willingly agreed to take charge of Caroline and her friend.
Sophy had been left asleep. When Mrs. Merton returned to her bed, she
found Evelyn quietly stationed there. This alarmed her, for Evelyn had
never had the scarlet fever, and had been forbidden the sick-room. But
poor little Sophy had waked and querulously asked for her dear Evy; and
Evy, who had been hovering round the room, heard the inquiry from the
garrulous nurse, and come in she would; and the child gazed at her so
beseechingly, when Mrs. Merton entered, and said so piteously, "Don't
take Evy away," that Evelyn stoutly declared that she was not the least
afraid of infection, and stay she must. Nay, her share in the nursing
would be the more necessary since Caroline was to go to Knaresdean the
next day.
"But you go too, my dear Miss Cameron?"
"Indeed I could not. I don't care for races, I never wished to go, I
would much sooner have stayed; and I am sure Sophy will not get well
without me,--will you, dear?"
"Oh, yes, yes; if I'm to keep you from the nice races, I should be worse
if I thought that."
"But I don't like the nice races, Sophy, as your sister Carry does; she
must go,--they can't do without her; but nobody knows me, so I shall not
be missed."
"I can't hear of such a thing," said Mrs. Merton, with tears in her
eyes; and Evelyn said no more then. But the next morning Sophy was
still worse, and the mother was too anxious and too sad to think more of
ceremony and politeness, so Evelyn stayed.
A momentary pang shot across Evelyn's breast when all was settled; but
she suppressed the sigh which accompanied the thought that she had lost
the only opportunity she might have for weeks of seeing Maltravers.
To that chance she had indeed looked forward with interest and timid
pleasure. The chance was lost; but why should it vex her,--what was he
to her?
Caroline's heart smote her, as she came into the room in her lilac
bonnet and new dress; and little Sophy, turning on her eyes which,
though languid, still expressed a child's pleasure at the sight of
finery, exclaimed, "How nice and pretty you look, Carry! Do take Evy
with you,--Evy looks pretty too!"
Caroline kissed the child in silence, and paused irresolute; glanced at
her dress, and then at Evelyn, who smiled on her without a thought of
envy; and she had half a mind to stay too, when her mother entered
with a letter from Lord Vargrave. It was short: he should be at the
Knaresdean races, hoped to meet them there, and accompany them home.
This information re-decided Caroline, while it rewarded Evelyn. In a few
minutes more, Mrs. Hare arrived; and Caroline, glad to escape, perhaps,
her own compunction, hurried into the carriage, with a hasty "God bless
you all! Don't fret--I'm sure she will be well to-morrow; and mind,
Evelyn, you don't catch the fever!" Mr. Merton looked grave and sighed,
as he handed her into the carriage; but when, seated there, she
turned round and kissed her hand at him, she looked so handsome and
distinguished, that a sentiment of paternal pride smoothed down his
vexation at her want of feeling. He himself gave up the visit; but a
little time after, when Sophy fell into a tranquil sleep, he thought
he might venture to canter across the country to the race-ground, and
return to dinner.
Days--nay, a whole week passed, the races were over, but Caroline had
not returned. Meanwhile, Sophy's fever left her; she could quit her bed,
her room; she could come downstairs now, and the family was happy. It
is astonishing how the least ailment in those little things stops the
wheels of domestic life! Evelyn fortunately had not caught the fever:
she was pale, and somewhat reduced by fatigue and confinement; but she
was amply repaid by the mother's swimming look of quiet gratitude, the
father's pressure of the hand, Sophy's recovery, and her own good heart.
They had heard twice from Caroline, putting off her return: Lady Raby
was so kind, she could not get away till the party broke up; she was so
glad to hear such an account of Sophy.
Lord Vargrave had not yet arrived at the rectory to stay; but he had
twice ridden over, and remained there some hours. He exerted himself to
the utmost to please Evelyn; and she--who, deceived by his manners, and
influenced by the recollections of long and familiar acquaintance, was
blinded to his real character--reproached herself more bitterly than
ever for her repugnance to his suit and her ungrateful hesitation to
obey the wishes of her stepfather.
To the Mertons, Lumley spoke with good-natured praise of Caroline; she
was so much admired; she was the beauty at Knaresdean. A certain young
friend of his, Lord Doltimore, was evidently smitten. The parents
thought much over the ideas conjured up by that last sentence.
One morning, the garrulous Mrs. Hare, the gossip of the neighbourhood,
called at the rectory; she had returned, two days before, from
Knaresdean; and she, too, had her tale to tell of Caroline's conquests.
"I assure you, my dear Mrs. Merton, if we had not all known that his
heart was pre-occupied, we should have thought that Lord Vargrave was
her warmest admirer. Most charming man, Lord Vargrave! but as for Lord
Doltimore, it was quite a flirtation. Excuse _me_: no scandal, you know,
ha, ha! a fine young man, but stiff and reserved,--not the fascination
of Lord Vargrave."
"Does Lord Raby return to town, or is he now at Knaresdean for the
autumn?"
"He goes on Friday, I believe: very few of the guests are left now. Lady
A. and Lord B., and Lord Vargrave and your daughter, and Mr. Legard and
Lord Doltimore, and Mrs. and the Misses Cipher; all the rest went the
same day I did."
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Merton, in some surprise.
"Ah, I read your thoughts: you wonder that Miss Caroline has not come
back,--is not that it? But perhaps Lord Doltimore--ha, ha!--no scandal
now--do excuse _me_!"
"Was Mr. Maltravers at Knaresdean?" asked Mrs. Merton, anxious to change
the subject, and unprepared with any other question. Evelyn was cutting
out a paper horse for Sophy, who--all her high spirits flown--was lying
on the sofa, and wistfully following her fairy fingers. "Naughty Evy,
you have cut off the horse's head!"
"Mr. Maltravers? No, I think not; no, he was not there. Lord Raby asked
him pointedly to come, and was, I know, much disappointed that he did
not. But _a propos_ of Mr. Maltravers: I met him not a quarter of an
hour ago, this morning, as I was coming to you. You know we have leave
to come through his park, and as I was in the park at the time, I
stopped the carriage to speak to him. I told him that I was coming
here, and that you had had the scarlet fever in the house, which was
the reason you had not gone to the races; and he turned quite pale, and
seemed so alarmed. I said we were all afraid that Miss Cameron should
catch it; and, excuse me--ah, ah!--no scandal, I hope--but--"
"Mr. Maltravers," said the butler, throwing open the door. Maltravers
entered with a quick and even a hurried step. He stopped short when he
saw Evelyn; and his whole countenance was instantly lightened up by a
joyous expression, which as suddenly died away.
"This is kind, indeed," said Mrs. Merton; "it is so long since we have
seen you."
"I have been very much occupied," muttered Maltravers, almost inaudibly,
and seated himself next Evelyn. "I only just heard--that--that you had
sickness in the house. Miss Cameron, you look pale--you--you have not