Alice, or the Mysteries — Complete
them. At last the conversation fell on Lord and Lady Doltimore; and
thence Maltravers, whose soul was full of one thought, turned it
indirectly towards Evelyn.
"Did you ever see Lady Vargrave?"
"Never," replied Legard, looking another way; "but Lady Doltimore says
she is as beautiful as Evelyn herself, if that be possible; and still
so young in form and countenance, that she looks rather like her sister
than her mother!"
"How I should like to know her!" said Maltravers, with a sudden energy.
Legard changed the subject. He spoke of the Carnival, of balls, of
masquerades, of operas, of reigning beauties!
"Ah," said Maltravers, with a half sigh, "yours is the age for those
dazzling pleasures; to me they are 'the twice-told tale.'"
Maltravers meant it not, but this remark chafed Legard. He thought it
conveyed a sarcasm on the childishness of his own mind or the levity of
his pursuits; his colour mounted, as he replied,--
"It is not, I fear, the slight difference of years between us,--it is
the difference of intellect you would insinuate; but you should remember
all men have not your resources; all men cannot pretend to genius!"
"My dear Legard," said Maltravers, kindly, "do not fancy that I could
have designed any insinuation half so presumptuous and impertinent.
Believe me, I envy you, sincerely and sadly, all those faculties of
enjoyment which I have worn away. Oh, how I envy you! for, were they
still mine, then--then, indeed, I might hope to mould myself into
greater congeniality with the beautiful and the young!"
Maltravers paused a moment, and resumed, with a grave smile: "I trust,
Legard, that you will be wiser than I have been; that you will
gather your roses while it is yet May: and that you will not live to
thirty-six, pining for happiness and home, a disappointed and desolate
man; till, when your ideal is at last found, you shrink back appalled,
to discover that you have lost none of the tendencies to love, but many
of the graces by which love is to be allured!"
There was so much serious and earnest feeling in these words that they
went home at once to Legard's sympathies. He felt irresistibly impelled
to learn the worst.
"Maltravers," said he, in a hurried tone, "it would be an idle
compliment to say that you are not likely to love in vain; perhaps it
is indelicate in me to apply a general remark; and yet--yet I cannot
but fancy that I have discovered your secret, and that you are not
insensible to the charms of Miss Cameron!"
"Legard!" said Maltravers,--and so strong was his fervent attachment
to Evelyn, that it swept away all his natural coldness and reserve,--"I
tell you plainly and frankly that in my love for Evelyn Cameron lie the
last hopes I have in life. I have no thought, no ambition, no sentiment
that is not vowed to her. If my love should be unreturned, I may strive
to endure the blow, I may mix with the world, I may seem to occupy
myself in the aims of others; but my heart will be broken! Let us talk
of this no more; you have surprised my secret, though it must have
betrayed itself. Learn from me how preternaturally strong, how generally
fatal is love deferred to that day when--in the stern growth of all the
feelings--love writes itself on granite!"
Maltravers, as if impatient of his own weakness, put spurs to his horse,
and they rode on rapidly for some time without speaking.
That silence was employed by Legard in meditating over all he had heard
and witnessed, in recalling all that he owed to Maltravers; and before
that silence was broken the young man nobly resolved not even to
attempt, not even to hope, a rivalry with Maltravers; to forego all the
expectations he had so fondly nursed, to absent himself from the company
of Evelyn, to requite faithfully and firmly that act of generosity
to which he owed the preservation of his life,--the redemption of his
honour.
Agreeably to this determination, he abstained from visiting those haunts
in which Evelyn shone; and if accident brought them together, his
manner was embarrassed and abrupt. She wondered,--at last, perhaps she
resented,--it may be that she grieved; for certain it is that Maltravers
was right in thinking that her manner had lost the gayety that
distinguished it at Merton Rectory. But still it may be doubted whether
Evelyn had seen enough of Legard, and whether her fancy and romance were
still sufficiently free from the magical influences of the genius
that called them forth in the eloquent homage of Maltravers, to trace,
herself, to any causes connected with her younger lover the listless
melancholy that crept over her. In very young women--new alike to the
world and the knowledge of themselves--many vague and undefined feelings
herald the dawn of Love; shade after shade and light upon light succeeds
before the sun breaks forth, and the earth awakens to his presence.
It was one evening that Legard had suffered himself to be led into a
party at the ----- ambassador's; and there, as he stood by the door,
he saw at a little distance Maltravers conversing with Evelyn. Again he
writhed beneath the tortures of his jealous anguish; and there, as he
gazed and suffered, he resolved (as Maltravers had done before him) to
fly from the place that had a little while ago seemed to him Elysium!
He would quit Paris, he would travel, he would not see Evelyn again till
the irrevocable barrier was passed, and she was the wife of Maltravers!
In the first heat of this determination, he turned towards some young
men standing near him, one of whom was about to visit Vienna. He gayly
proposed to join him,--a proposal readily accepted, and began conversing
on the journey, the city, its splendid and proud society, with all that
cruel exhilaration which the forced spirits of a stricken heart can
alone display, when Evelyn (whose conference with Maltravers was ended)
passed close by him. She was leaning on Lady Doltimore's arm, and the
admiring murmur of his companions caused Legard to turn suddenly round.
"You are not dancing to-night, Colonel Legard," said Caroline, glancing
towards Evelyn. "The more the season for balls advances, the more
indolent you become."
Legard muttered a confused reply, one half of which seemed petulant,
while the other half was inaudible.
"Not so indolent as you suppose," said his friend. "Legard meditates an
excursion sufficient, I hope, to redeem his character in your eyes. It
is a long journey, and, what is worse, a very cold journey, to Vienna."
"Vienna! do you think of going to Vienna?" cried Caroline.
"Yes," said Legard. "I hate Paris; any place better than this odious
city!" and he moved away.
Evelyn's eyes followed him sadly and gravely. She remained by Lady
Doltimore's side, abstracted and silent for several minutes.
Meanwhile Caroline, turning to Lord Devonport (the friend who had
proposed the Viennese excursion), said, "It is cruel in you to go to
Vienna,--it is doubly cruel to rob Lord Doltimore of his best friend and
Paris of its best waltzer."
"Oh, it is a voluntary offer of Legard's, Lady Doltimore,--believe me, I
have used no persuasive arts. But the fact is, that we have been talking
of a fair widow, the beauty of Austria, and as proud and as unassailable
as Ehrenbreitstein itself. Legard's vanity is piqued; and so--as a
professed lady-killer--he intends to see what can be effected by the
handsomest Englishman of his time."
Caroline laughed, and new claimants on her notice succeeded to Lord
Devonport. It was not till the ladies were waiting their carriage in the
shawl-room that Lady Doltimore noticed the paleness and thoughtful brow
of Evelyn.
"Are you fatigued or unwell, dear?" she said.
"No," answered Evelyn, forcing a smile; and at that moment they were
joined by Maltravers, with the intelligence that it would be some
minutes before the carriage could draw up. Caroline amused herself in
the interval by shrewd criticisms on the dresses and characters of her
various friends. Caroline had grown an amazing prude in her judgment of
others!
"What a turban!--prudent for Mrs. A----- to wear,--bright red; it puts
out her face, as the sun puts out the fire. Mr. Maltravers, do observe
Lady B----- with that _very_ young gentleman. After all her experience
in angling, it is odd that she should still only throw in for small
fish. Pray, why is the marriage between Lady C----- D----- and Mr.
F----- broken off? Is it true that he is so much in debt, and is so
very--very profligate? They say she is heartbroken."
"Really, Lady Doltimore," said Maltravers, smiling, "I am but a bad
scandal-monger. But poor F----- is not, I believe, much worse than
others. How do we know whose fault it is when a marriage is broken off?
Lady C----- D----- heartbroken! what an idea! Nowadays there is never
any affection in compacts of that sort; and the chain that binds the
frivolous nature is but a gossamer thread! Fine gentlemen and fine
ladies, their loves and their marriages--
"'May flourish and may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made.'
"Never believe that a heart long accustomed to beat only in good society
can be broken,--it is rarely ever touched!"
Evelyn listened attentively, and seemed struck. She sighed, and said
in a very low voice, as to herself, "It is true--how could I think
otherwise?"
For the next few days Evelyn was unwell, and did not quit her room.
Maltravers was in despair. The flowers, the books, the music he sent;
his anxious inquiries, his earnest and respectful notes, touched with
that ineffable charm which Heart and Intellect breathe into the most
trifling coinage from their mint,--all affected Evelyn sensibly. Perhaps
she contrasted them with Legard's indifference and apparent caprice;
perhaps in that contrast Maltravers gained more than by all his
brilliant qualities. Meanwhile, without visit, without message, without
farewell,--unconscious, it is true, of Evelyn's illness,--Legard
departed for Vienna.
CHAPTER III.
A PLEASING land...
Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye,
And of gay castles in the clouds that pass,
Forever flashing round a summer sky.--THOMSON.
DAILY, hourly, increased the influence of Evelyn over Maltravers. Oh,
what a dupe is a man's pride! what a fool his wisdom! That a girl,
a mere child, one who scarce knew her own heart, beautiful as it
was,--whose deeper feelings still lay coiled up in their sweet
buds,--that she should thus master this proud, wise man! But as
thou--our universal teacher--as thou, O Shakspeare! haply speaking from
the hints of thine own experience, hast declared--
"None are so truly caught, when they are catched,
As wit turned fool; folly in wisdom hatched,
Hath wisdom's warrant."
Still, methinks that, in that surpassing and dangerously indulged
affection which levelled thee, Maltravers, with the weakest, which
overturned all thy fine philosophy of Stoicism, and made thee the
veriest slave of the "Rose Garden,"--still, Maltravers, thou mightest
at least have seen that thou hast lost forever all right to pride,
all privilege to disdain the herd! But thou wert proud of thine own
infirmity! And far sharper must be that lesson which can teach thee that
Pride--thine angel--is ever pre-doomed to fall.
What a mistake to suppose that the passions are strongest in youth! The
passions are not stronger, but the control over them is weaker. They are
more easily excited, they are more violent and more apparent; but they
have less energy, less durability, less intense and concentrated power,
than in maturer life. In youth, passion succeeds to passion, and one
breaks upon the other, as waves upon a rock, till the heart frets itself
to repose. In manhood, the great deep flows on, more calm, but more