Volume I Part 25 (1/2)
”You are right,” replied Miss Wyllys, in a faltering voice; and seating herself by her niece, she continued, ”He is well. If he is in trouble, it is from his own choice. Have you no suspicions, my dearest child, of what has happened?”
”Suspicions!”--exclaimed Elinor, in astonishment, ”what is there for me to suspect? My dearest Aunt, I am more and more perplexed--explain it all yourself--who is it you are concerned for?”
”My only concern is for you, dearest; my only regret, that trouble should have been brought on you by those dear to you--by your grandfather, by myself, by your cousins.”
”By you!--by my cousins--what cousins?”
”Harry--Jane--Have you remarked nothing?”
”Harry! what can he have done?”
”You must forget him,” said Miss Wyllys; and as Elinor looked eagerly in her aunt's eyes, she read there all that Miss Agnes had not courage to tell in words.
Half starting from her seat, she exclaimed, ”Harry!--and Jane too!” and as a deadly paleness came over her face, she fell back, unconscious, on the sofa. Her faintness lasted but a moment; too short a time, indeed, to allow the impression of what she had heard to pa.s.s from her mind. She burst into tears. ”Oh, Aunt Agnes!--Is it really true?--Can Harry have changed? can he have been so unkind to me?--And Jane, too!” she exclaimed at intervals.
Her aunt answered only by her caresses, silently pressing her lips upon Elinor's forehead.
Elinor threw her arms about Miss Agnes's neck, weeping bitterly.
”But is it really true? Is there not some mistake? Is it possible he felt so little for me? Oh, dearest Aunt!--and Jane, too!”
Miss Wyllys said that she knew nothing of Jane's feelings; but that the manner of both Jane and Harry had struck her several times as singular; though now but too easily accounted for.
During the last ten days, she had begun to fear something wrong.
”Never, for one second, had I a doubt of either!” cried Elinor.
She now dreaded to receive the letter, she had before asked for so eagerly.
A package had been given by Harry to the chambermaid, that morning, requesting her to place it in Miss Agnes's hands as soon as she left her room. It contained three letters. That to Miss Agnes herself, was full and explicit. He now wrote, he said, because he felt concealment to be no longer possible, after the manner in which he had betrayed himself on hearing of the steamboat accident. He felt convinced that his emotion had been observed by Miss Wyllys, and he almost hoped the suspicions of Elinor had been aroused. He hoped it, for he felt that longer concealment would be unworthy of Elinor, and of himself, since he had not been able to control his feelings. He acknowledged that a frank confession was now due to her.
”I know,” he said, ”that you will reproach me severely for my want of faith, and I feel that I deserve far more than you will say. But do not think that I erred from deliberate forgetfulness of all that I owed to Elinor. I was for a long time unconscious of the state of my own feelings; and when at length I could no longer deceive myself, the discovery of my weakness was deeply painful and mortifying. You know what has been my situation since last spring--you know to what I have been exposed. Greater caution might no doubt have been used, had I not been misled by blindness, or self-confidence, or vanity, call it what you please. No one can reproach me as severely as I reproach myself.
But although my feelings had escaped my own control before I knew it, yet I determined from the first that my actions should at least be worthy of Elinor. I instantly became more guarded. No human being, I believe, until to-day, suspected my folly. Do not reproach Jane. The fault is entirely with me; Jane has been blameless throughout.”
He concluded by hoping that his letter would not for a moment be considered by Miss Wyllys or Elinor, as an attempt to break his engagement, which he was still anxious to fulfil. But he thought that, now the explanation had been made, a separation for some time would be preferable for all parties. He proposed to travel for six months, and at the end of that time be hoped to have conquered his own weakness, and to be forgiven by Elinor.
Bitter tears were shed by Elinor, in reading this letter.
The note to herself was short. He had not the courage to repeat to her directly, what he had said to Miss Wyllys.
”I feel unworthy of you, Elinor, and I cannot endure longer to deceive so generous a temper as yours. You must have remarked my emotion this morning--Miss Wyllys now knows all; I refer you to her. I shall never cease to reproach myself for my unpardonable ingrat.i.tude. But painful as it is to confess it, it would have been intolerable to play the hypocrite any longer, by continuing to receive proofs of kindness which I no longer deserve. It is my hope, that in time you will forgive me; though I shall never forgive myself.
”H. H.”
There are said to be young ladies with hearts so tender, as to be capable of two or three different love affairs, and an unlimited number of flirtations, in the course of a twelvemonth; but Elinor's disposition was of a very different stamp. Her feelings were all true and strong; her attachment for Harry little resembled that mixture of caprice and vanity to which some young people give the name of love. With something of fancy, and a share of the weakness, no doubt, it was yet an affection to which every better quality of her nature had contributed its share.
Hazlehurst's determination never to forgive himself for the sorrow he had caused her, was a just one. His fickleness had deeply wounded a heart, warm, true, and generous, as ever beat in a woman's bosom.
Bitterly did Elinor weep, that first day of grief, humiliation, and disappointment. She did not hesitate, however, for a moment, as to the course to be pursued, and even felt indignant that Harry should have believed her capable of holding him to his engagement, with the feelings he had avowed. She answered his note as soon as she could command herself sufficiently to write.
”I do not blame you--your conduct was but natural; one more experienced, or more prudent than myself, would probably have foreseen it. Had you left me in ignorance of the truth until too late, I should then have been miserable indeed. My aunt will take the first opportunity of letting our mutual friends know the position in which it is best we should continue for the future.
May you be happy with Jane.