Volume Ii Part 6 (1/2)
Trevor had no more to say. He shook hands with Arthur, who appeared to have no further desire to remain. Like one subdued and exhausted in mind and body, almost silently he suffered the young man to take his leave.
Seaham merely repeated that he should be found, or could be referred to at any time at the Temple, and in a few moments had quitted the hotel.
CHAPTER VIII.
Let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait.
LONGFELLOW.
In less than a fortnight from the period of this interview, Mary escorted by her brother-in-law, Mr. Gillespie, who had been in London on business, left England for Edinburgh.
This plan was much more accordant with her state of feeling at this period, than would have been that of accompanying her sister Agnes into Wales, as the latter was so affectionately anxious she should have done.
It would have been melancholy for her just then to have found her dear old home, Glan Pennant, in the hands of strangers, and there is something still more melancholy to the feelings in revisiting familiar scenes, a.s.sociated as they may be in the mind with naught but happy careless memories, when over the spirit of our dream has pa.s.sed like a blight some subduing change, such as was now overshadowing Mary's happiness.
”It wrings the heart to see each thing the same, Tread over the same steps, and then to find The difference in the heart. It is so sad, So very lonely to be the sole one In whom there is a sign of change.”
Besides it was very long since she had seen her sister Alice, so tied to home by her many domestic cares and duties.
Agnes' life was one as yet all holiday enjoyment--her heart bounding with delight at the prospect of an establishment in her beautiful country home--in her own dear neighbourhood.
”There was no sorrow in her note”--and Mary perceived and rejoiced in the conviction that her younger sister's happiness needed no additional weight. Next to being happy herself, she desired most the power of bestowing happiness on others, and a real pleasure she knew would be her presence to that excellent elder sister. She would seek in some degree to aid and lighten her cares and avocations. It would have been better perhaps had she gone there, long ago. But could she bring her heart to accede to this a.s.sumption?
Oh, no! not yet--not now--not ever could that be.
”I hold it true, what'er betide, I feel it when I sorrow most, 'Tis better to have lov'd and lost Than never to have loved at all.”
This, rather we a.s.sume, was the language of that faithful heart, still clinging too tenderly to the intense happiness of the past, to grudge the anguish of its bewildering reverse.
Clouds had arisen to obscure the heaven of her certain happiness--her once full hope had been deferred, but the day of despondency or of sickening weariness had not yet arrived.
Her lover's explanatory interview with her brother had effectually cleared, from her all believing mind, many a vague dread and anxious misgiving, which at one time were beginning to disturb her spirit; and again she could set herself to wait patiently, buoyed up by her all enduring love--her steadfast entire trust. But this hope, and trust, beautiful in themselves, could they be set alone on the frail and futile creature?
”Hope in the Lord, wait patiently for Him, and he shall give thee thy heart's desire. Commit thy way unto Him, and trust in Him, and He will bring it to pa.s.s.”
Surely Mary's meek obedient soul, must have drawn its greatest strength and patience from the dictates of this high and holy invocation.
There was too, something perhaps most providentially salutary and effective, in the atmosphere of the home, where at this particular moment Mary had been led to take up her abode.
Here in the example afforded by her sister Alice's adaptation, and appropriation of herself--her tastes, and her talents, to that one ultimate end of all, feelings and powers; the performance of her duty, in that state of life which had been a.s.signed to her--Mary's gentle mind, too p.r.o.ne perhaps, by nature to rest in pa.s.sive enjoyment, and in the barren luxury of emotions, might receive a lesson, strengthening and benificial for its future need.
”That life is not all poetry To gentle measures set,”
”That Heaven must be won, not dreamed.”
How a mind and character, that from amongst all her sisters, had been the one most answering to her own, had effectually roused itself from the shadowy Paradise of her earlier years, to meet the real demands of life--to embrace its actual duties, and defy its uncongenial pains--and not only this, but to find therein, more than in the pleasanter summer paths of earlier days, or in those refined indulgences in which her spirit still loved at times to cherish, true happiness and peace.