Part 10 (2/2)

Then he turned, and his eyes fell upon the kneeling figure by his side; he started violently, and remained mute with surprise, his heart well nigh stopping in its beating with astonishment; almost it seemed to him as if his music had drawn down an angel from the regions of perpetual melody; so fair and spotless did she seem, the moonlight falling on her soft white robes, and weaving her floating hair into a golden tissue with the mingling of its own bright rays. Speechless he remained gazing with the earnest wish that this pure vision might not pa.s.s away into a dream. But meantime the cessation of music had unbound the chains that held her young soul captive, and when the sweet face turned towards him the childlike features, solemn with intensity of feeling, he saw that they were human eyes which met his own, eyes that could weep for sorrow, and grow beautiful with tenderness, for now a timid glance stole into them, and a faint smile to the parted lips. Unconsciously, he let his hands fall softly on her head and said:

”Where have you come from? who are you?”

”Lilias,” she answered, simply, as a child that tells its name when asked.

”Lily, indeed,” he said, ”most fair and lovely as the snow-white lilies are; but no such gentle vision ever came to me before in these dark hours, though I have been here lonely, night by night. I thought at first it was a spirit kneeling there; and it is scarce less marvellous to me that a human being should visit me in my solitude, than that some merciful angel should come to cheer me. How is it, then, that you are here?”

”The music seemed to call me and I came,” she said; ”it was so very beautiful it drew my whole soul after it; but I know I should not have ventured here at such an hour, and now I will go back, only----”

She hesitated, and looked up pleadingly into the eyes that were turned with such admiring wonder on her----

”You live in this house?” she asked.

”I do,” he replied, and then bowed his head as though the answer were one of shame.

”Then will you promise me,” she said, ”that I shall hear these glorious sounds once more? I feel as though I could have no rest till I may listen to them yet again, and to the voice that was as a soul within them. May I come here to-morrow, and will you bestow on me the greatest pleasure I have ever known, for, indeed, I never felt such deep enjoyment as in hearing that solemn strain?”

”Most gladly would I--most gladly see you again, sweet Lily; since that is your sweet name; but do you know who I am?”

”No, excepting that I think you will be my friend,--at least I shall hope it,--for the soul that could utter that divine song must be so worthy of all friends.h.i.+p.”

These gentle words seemed literally to make him tremble, as another might to hear the ravings of pa.s.sion.

”Oh do not speak so softly to me,” he said, ”I am unused to kindness, and it unmans me; besides, soon you will know all, and then you will neither have the will nor power to befriend me, and it were better for me not to have the hope of your future sympathy, thus given for a moment and then withdrawn.”

”But why withdrawn?” she said, with her gaze of innocent surprise.

”You are Sir Michael's niece, are you not, the child of his favorite brother--his heiress probably?”

”I am his niece, but not his heiress surely; there are so many worthier heirs, are you not one of them?”

”I! I am Hubert Lyle.” He seemed to expect that at the sound of that name she would recoil in fear or indignation, but she only repeated the words ”Hubert Lyle,” and then shook her head gently to intimate that it was an unknown sound to her; he smiled with pleasure to hear his name so softly spoken by the lips of one who seemed to him the purest, sweetest vision that ever had blest his eyes on earth. ”I see you have not yet learned all the secrets of this house,” he said, ”but it will not be long before Sir Michael's niece shall have been taught that there is one beneath this roof whom she must hate, hate even with a deadly animosity.

I think it will be a hard lesson for such a gentle nature;” he added almost pityingly. A new light seemed to break in upon her.

”Oh, is it possible?” she exclaimed; ”was it then of you that my uncle spoke with such a bitter animosity, as it makes me s.h.i.+ver to think one human being should ever have the power to feel towards another?”

”I am, indeed, the object of his abhorrence.”

”But unjustly,” she exclaimed, fixing her candid eyes steadily on his face. ”I know, I feel, you have not deserved this cruel hatred.”

”Not at your uncle's hands, indeed, not, I think, at those of any human being, for I know that wilfully I have injured none; but, doubtless, this discipline is all too little for my deserts, as I must seem unto no mortal sight, and so it must be borne patiently.” This humanity touched Lilias to the very heart, her voice trembled with eagerness as she said:

”But do not speak as though I or any other could ever share in the wrong he does you; rather is it our part to make you forget it, as you have forgiven it, by our friends.h.i.+p justly and gladly granted to you.”

”Most innocent child,” he said, ”it is plain you never yet have listened to the voice of your worldly interest; but when that world shall have taught you the value of Sir Michael's favor, then will even this guileless heart be moved to feel or simulate a due abhorrence for his enemy.”

”Never!” she exclaimed, lifting up her childlike head with a n.o.ble dignity, and throwing back the long hair that she might stand face to face with him to whom she spoke. ”Listen, I do not know you; as yet I cannot tell if in very deed you are worthy of the loyal true-hearted friends.h.i.+p, which it is a blessing to give and to receive from our fellow-creatures; but my heart tells me you are so, even to the very uttermost, for I think that none could be otherwise, and dare to sing such solemn strains before high heaven at dead of night; and if it be so--if indeed you are worthy of the esteem and sympathy of all who can distinguish between right and wrong--then is it your lawful due, of which I would not dare defraud you, for it were high treason against the truth and majesty of goodness. If we are bound to adore perfection in its eternal Source and Essence, so is it our very duty and service to pay tribute to the faint reflection of that spirit in the frail human creature; and neither my uncle, nor any other on this earth, has a right to ask of me, or shall compel me, to act a lie against the sovereign virtue I am sworn to wors.h.i.+p loyally, by withholding the homage of my friends.h.i.+p to all that are good and true of heart.”

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