Volume Ii Part 6 (2/2)
”I have found peace in the bright earth, And in the sunny sky, I have found it in the summer seas, And where dreams murmur by.
”I find it in the quiet tone Of voices that I love, By the flickering of a twilight fire, And in a leafless grove.
”I find it in the silent flow Of solitary thought, In calm, half-meditated dreams, And reasonings self-taught.
”But seldom have I found such peace As in the soul's deep joy, Of pa.s.sing onward free from harm, Through every day's employ.”
And even her brother-in-law, Mr. Gillespie, though of a less kindred soul, and with those matter of fact and prosaic points of character--attributes in his case, both national and professional. Even in his companions.h.i.+p, she found something bracing and effectual, such as she might not have done with more yielding and indulgent friends.
Her darling brother--it had been her former happy dream to pa.s.s her unmarried days in his companions.h.i.+p; and she might have been with him now, had it not been deemed, at present, neither convenient or expedient.
She must in that case have shared her brother's chambers in London; and at her age, and under her peculiar circ.u.mstances, such an arrangement could scarcely be available, without being an interruption to her brother's important studies and pursuits, though he would have made any present sacrifice for his sister's sake.
Ah, yes! or why did he turn his eyes so steadily from a sight so fascinating to his heart as was that cherub face, which often looked down upon him from a pew of the Temple Church--or bravely resist the flattering attention and repeated hospitalities of the eminent counsel, that cherub's father, in whose house--
”He saw her upon nearer view, A spirit, but a woman too,”
and who seemed in every way inclined to bestow her notice on the promising, agreeable student of the Middle Temple?
Why?--but because he determined to allow no cherub face to usurp the foremost place in his affections, no ”ladye love,” with form however beautiful, to become the reigning, mistress of his house and hearth until that beloved sister of his youth had secured a dearer, better home.
Besides, under any circ.u.mstances, he was not such a fool as to think of marrying for many a year yet; a pretty business it would be if over the dingy pages of Blackstone, and the year book, was for ever flitting the bewitching, radiant face of Carrie Elliott.
Thus, then, for a time shall we leave our heroine, whose fortunes, like the gentle flowing course of a glistening river, we have hitherto so undeviatingly pursued; whilst we turn aside, not willingly, to trace through their darker, wilder mazes, the fate and fortunes of those two beings, whom an inscrutable Providence had ordained should hold such important influence over her destiny.
CHAPTER IX.
Farewell; and if a soul where hatred's gall Melts into pardon, that embalmeth all, Can with forgiveness bless thee; from remorse Can pluck the stone which interrupts the course Of thought to G.o.d; and bid the waters rest Calm in Heaven's smile--poor fellow-man, be blest!
THE NEW TIMON.
Eugene Trevor was fated to encounter another interview of importance before he laid down to rest that night, or rather morning, succeeding the meeting with Arthur Seaham.
He had gone forth, very soon after the departure of the latter, to seek diversion for his disturbed and troubled spirit by excitement--that most common resource of man under similar circ.u.mstances--offered in the shape of those amus.e.m.e.nts belonging to the sporting club of which he was a member.
He returned to the hotel more than one hour after midnight, to be informed that a gentleman was waiting to see him on particular business.
”At this time of night?” was the impatient reply. ”Who in the world can it be?”
The gentleman had not given his name; he had come more than two hours ago, but had expressed his intention of remaining to await Mr. Trevor's return.
Eugene, with a certain uncomfortable feeling of misgiving at his heart, proceeded to the apartment into which his unseasonable visitor had been shown. Two candles burnt dimly on the table. Dark, pale, haggard, as the imperfect light gleamed upon his features, looked the lover of the gentle Mary, thus returning from those midnight excitements in which he had plunged to dispel too haunting thoughts and vivid memories connected with her pure and holy image; but a something of strange and startled wildness was added to their expression, as his eyes fixed themselves first uncertainly--and then gradually and clearly identified the face and form of him who stood up to receive him--that tall, commanding form, before which his own seemed to shrink into insignificance--that face, as pale as was his own, but from before whose calm, steady gaze his eyes for an instant quailed so fearfully.
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