Cruel as the grave
"He is the young lawyer newly settled in Blackville, whose praise is on
everybody's lips."
"JOHN LYON HOWE!" exclaimed the old man, throwing up his head in
astonishment.
"Yes, father," breathed the girl.
"And he loves you?"
She nodded.
"And you love him?"
She nodded again.
"A briefless young lawyer, with a long list of impoverished brothers and
sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins! Bad enough; but not as it might
have been. She can gain nothing by that connection! But then she need
not lose anything either," murmured the old man to himself. After
reflecting for a few moments, with his head upon his breast, he suddenly
raised his eyes and exclaimed:
"But I have never seen the young man at this house!"
"No, father!"
"Nor at any other house where we visit."
"No, father; for although he receives many invitations to visit his
friends, he accepts none. Father, I think he cannot afford to do so."
"Cannot afford to visit! Why?"
"Visiting requires dress, and dress money. And he does so much
gratuitous work now in the beginning of his career that he has but
little money; and his father will not help him at all, because they
differ in politics."
"Yes, I know they do; but the young man is quite right. I agree with his
views perfectly. He will make his mark in the world some of these days,
and then his father will be proud of him."
Sybil blushed with delight to hear her lover so praised by one in whose
hands their happiness rested.
"But, my child, he was wrong and you were wrong to have entered into any
engagement without my sanction," said the old man very gravely.
"There is no engagement, father," gently answered Sybil.
"Ah! no engagement? that is well! By my soul, though, it was not right
for him even to have wooed you without my consent! Nor can I conceive
what opportunity he has ever had to do so. He never comes here."
"He has never wooed me, dear father."
"EH!"
"He has never sought my hand."
"But I thought you gave me to understand that you love each other!"
"So we do, father."
"Then, if he loves you, why don't he come and tell me so like an
honorable man?"
"Father, he has never even told _me_ so."
"EH!"
"He has never breathed a word of love to me."
"Then how the deuce do you know that he loves you, girl?"
"Oh, by every glance of his eyes, by every tone of his voice, and by my
own heart! Oh, father, do you think I would bear to tell you this, if I
were not sure of it."
"Umph, umph! But why don't he speak?--that's what I want to know! Why
don't he speak?"
"Dear father, can you not comprehend that he is too proud to do so?"
"Too proud! By my word! It is a new hearing that a Howe should be too
proud to seek an alliance with a Berners!" exclaimed old Bertram hotly,
rising from his chair.
"Old age ne'er cooled the Douglas blood,"
and it had not cooled his.
Sybil smiled to see how utterly he had misunderstood her, and making him
sit down again, she said,
"You dear old darling, it is not that! It is the very opposite to that.
It is because he is poor and we are rich, and he is too proud to be
called a fortune-hunter."
"Oh, I understand! I understand!
'Among the rest young Edwin bowed,
But never told his love.
Wisdom, and worth were all he had.'"
"Yes, dear father, that is just the truth. You wish me to marry; but,
dear, dear father, I can never bring myself to marry any one but _him_;
and he loves me truly, but does not seek me?" she breathed in a low and
tremulous tone, half smothered also by the hands with which she covered
her blushing face.
"Now what am I to do in this case? I have nothing against the young man
whatever, except his poverty and big long line of poor relations, that
will be sure to be a burden to him!" grumbled old Bertram to himself.
"But, father, we are so rich! We have enough for so many people,"
pleaded Sybil.
"Not enough to enrich all the Howes, my dear! But I like the young man,
I really do like him, and if he had more money, and less relations, I
should prefer him to any young man in the neighborhood for a
son-in-law."
"O father, dear father, thank you, thank you for saying that," exclaimed
Sybil, fervently kissing his hands.
"And now that you have told me your mind, what do you want me to do, my
darling?" he inquired, returning her caresses.
"Oh, dear father! an old man like you must know! I do want you to give
Lyon help and encouragement as you know best how to do it, without
wounding his pride. You sympathize with his political principles; let
him know that you do. You admire his character; let him feel that you
do."
"What else?"
"This. Since old Mr. Godwin died you have had no agent for your large
estate, and its accounts must be falling into disorder, Lyon is a
lawyer, you know. Offer him the agency of your estate, with a liberal
salary."
"Upon my word, I never thought of that before. Here for three months I
have been thinking whom I could get as an agent, and much as I esteemed
that young man I never once thought of applying to him! But the fact is,
I never looked upon him in the light of a business man, but only as a
brilliant barrister, and eloquent pleader."
"Yet, father, you know he _must_ be a good business man to have
collected such great stores of statistics as he has always at command."
"Well, my love, I will go to-day and offer him the agency. Now what
next?"
"He was too poor and too proud to come before, but as your agent, father,
you must bring him often to the house on business."
"And then?"
"You must leave the rest to me."
Thus it was that the young lawyer became the agent for the great Black
Valley Manor. This agency included not only the management of the
revenues from several rich farms, but also those from the stone
quarries, iron mines, and the water mill at the head of the valley, and
also from the real estate in the village at the foot, all of which was
included in the Black Valley Manor.
The new agent was frequently called to Black Hall, where he was always
received with the utmost courtesy. And as the acquaintance between the
proprietor and the agent ripened into intimacy, a deep and strong
attachment grew between them.
"Youth never showed itself wiser or better than in this young man,"
murmured Mr. Berners to himself.
"Age was never so venerable and beautiful as in this old man," thought
John Lyon Howe to himself.
The old man loaded the young one with many marks of his esteem and
affection. The young man returned these with the warmest gratitude and
highest reverence.
When John Lyon Howe, with his heart filled with love for Sybil Berners,
first entered Black Hall, it was without the slightest suspicion of her
responsive love for him. But when they were thrown so much together, he
was not very long in making the discovery so delightful to his soul,
and yet--so trying too! for, as a man of good principles, there seemed
to be but one course left open to him--the course of self-denial! He
loved the great heiress, and had unintentionally won her love! Therefore
he must fly from her presence, trying to forget her, hoping that she
might forget him.
He summoned up courage for the sacrifice, and went into the study of his
employer and in a few words told him that he had come to say good-bye.
The astonished old man looked up for an explanation.
John Lyon Howe gave it to him.
"And so you wish to leave me, never to return to the Hall, because you
love my daughter."
The young man bowed in silence; but could not conceal the misery it
caused him to make this acknowledgment.
"But why should that oblige you to leave the house?" inquired Mr.
Berners.
"Oh, sir! can you ask?" exclaimed Mr. Howe.
"Oh, I see! the little witch has refused you!" exclaimed old Bertram
with a twinkle in his eye. "Come, is it not so?"
"Sir, I have never abused your confidence so far as to seek her hand! I
could not make so base a return for your kindness to me."
"Oh, you have never asked her to marry you! How in the world, then, can
you know whether she will accept you or not? or, consequently, whether
it will be necessary for you to leave or not?"
"Oh, sir! what is it that you would say?" exclaimed the young man, in
quick, broken tones, while his face turned pale with agitation.
"Nonsense, my boy! When I was young a youth didn't require so much
encouragement to woo a maiden. Before you make up your mind to leave me,
go and ask Sybil's consent to the step."
"Oh, sir! oh, Mr. Berners! do you mean this?" gasped the young man,
catching at the back of the chair for support. He was inured to sorrow,
but not to joy. And this joy was so sudden and overwhelming that he
reeled under it.
"I mean what I say, Mr. Howe. I esteem and respect you. I sanction your
addresses to my daughter," said old Bertram, speaking with more gravity
and dignity than he had before displayed.
John Lyon fervently kissed his old friend's hand, and went immediately
in search of Sybil. And that same night, old Bertram had the pleasure of
joining their hands together in solemn betrothal.
"And now I can die happy," said the old man, earnestly; "for it was not
another great fortune, but a good husband that I coveted for my darling
child."
Ten days from this night, old Bertram Berners dropped into his last
sleep. He was well and happy up to the last hour of his life. The "Wave
of Death," found him in his arm-chair, and bore him off without a
struggle to the "Ocean of Eternity." So old Bertram Berners was gathered
to his fathers.
The year of mourning was permitted to pass, and then John Lyon Howe,
having, according to the conditions of the marriage contract, assumed
the name and arms of Berners, was united in marriage to the beautiful
Sybil. And they set out on their bridal tour as Mr. and Mrs. Lyon
Berners.
And now we will again look in upon them as they linger over their
tea-table in the old inn at Norfolk, where we first introduced them to
our readers.
CHAPTER IV.
THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER.
"From the glance of her eye
Shun danger and fly,
for fatal's the glance."
Very happy were the married lovers as they sat over their tea, even
though the scene of their domestic joy was just now but an inn-parlor.
Both the young people had good appetites: gratified love had not
deprived them of that.
They talked of their homeward journey and how pleasant it would be in
this glorious autumn weather, and of their home and how glad they would
be to reach it--yes, how glad! For, paradoxical as it may seem to say
so, there is no happiness so perfect as that which looks forward to
something still more perfect, if such could be possible in the future.
They talked of the Black Valley, and how beautiful even that would look
in its gorgeous October livery.
Suddenly in the midst of their sweet converse they heard the sound of
weeping--low, deep, heart-broken weeping.
Both paused, looked at each other and listened.
The sound seemed to come from a room on the opposite side of the passage
to their own apartment.
"What is that?" inquired Sybil, looking up to her husband's face.
"It seems to be some woman in distress," answered Lyon.
"Oh! see what it is, dear, will you?" entreated Sybil.
She was herself so happy, that it was really dreadful to be reminded
just then that sorrow should exist in this world; at all.
"Oh, go and see what is the matter. Do, dear," she insisted, seeing that
he hesitated.
"I would do so, dear, in a moment, but it might be indiscreet on my
part. The lady may be a party to some little domestic misunderstanding,
with which it would be impertinent in any stranger to interfere,"