Part 42 (1/2)
CHAPTER Xl
”There is more complacency in the negligence of some men, than in what is called the good breeding of others; and the little absences of the heart are often more interesting and engaging than the punctilious attention of a thousand professed sacrificers to the graces.”--MACKENZIE.
POWERFUL emotions are the certain levellers of ordinary feelings. When Mary met Colonel Lennox in the breakfast-room the following morning, he accosted her not with the ceremony of a stranger but with the frankness of a heart careless of common forms, and spoke of his mother with indications of sensibility which he vainly strove to repress. Mary knew that she had sought to conceal her real situation from him; but it seemed a vague suspicion of the truth had, crossed his mind, and having with difficulty obtained a short leave of absence he had hastened to have either his hopes or fears realised.
”And now that I know the worst,” said he, ”I know it only to deplore it.
Far from alleviating, presence seems rather to aggravate my poor mother's misfortune. Oh! it is heartrending to see the strivings of these longing eyes to look upon the face of those she loves!”
”Ah!” thought Mary, ”were they to behold that face now, how changed would it appear!” as she contrasted it with the portrait that hung immediately over the head of the original. The one in all the brightness of youth--the radiant eyes, the rounded cheek, the fair open brow, spoke only of hope, and health, and joy. Those eyes were now dimmed by sorrow; the cheek was wasted with toil; the brow was clouded by cares. Yet, ”as it is the best part of beauty which a picture cannot express,” [1]
so there is something superior to the mere charms of form and colour; and an air of high-toned feeling, of mingled vivacity and sensibility, gave a grandeur to the form and an expression to the countenance which more than atoned for the want of youth's more brilliant attributes.
[1] Lord Bacon.
At least, so thought Mary; but her comparisons were interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Lennox. Her son flew towards her, and taking her arm from that of her attendant, led her to her seat, and sought to render her those little offices which her helplessness required.
”My dear Charles,” said she, with a smile, as he tried to adjust her cus.h.i.+ons, ”your hands have not been used to this work. Your arm is my best support, but a gentler hand must smooth my pillow. Mary, my love, where are--? Give me your hand.” Then placing it in that of her son-- ”Many a tear has this hand wiped from your mother's eyes!”
Mary, blus.h.i.+ng deeply, hastily withdrew it. She felt it as a sort of appeal to Colonel Lennox's feelings; and a sense of wounded delicacy made her shrink from being thus recommended to his grat.i.tude. But Colonel Lennox seemed too much absorbed in his own painful reflections to attach such a meaning to his mother's words; and though they excited him to regard Mary for a moment with peculiar interest, yet, in a little while, he relapsed into the mournful reverie from which he had been roused.
Colonel Lennox was evidently not a show-off character. He seemed superior to the mere vulgar aim of making himself agreeable--an aim which has much oftener its source in vanity than in benevolence. Yet the exerted himself to meet his mother's cheerfulness; though as often as he looked at her, or raised his eyes to the youthful group that hung before them, his changing hue and quivering lip betrayed the anguish he strove to hide.
Breakfast ended, Mary rose to prepare for her departure, in spite of the solicitations of her friend that she should remain till the following day.
”Surely, my dear Mary,” said she in an imploring accent, ”you will not refuse to bestow one day of happiness upon me?--and it is _such _a happiness to see my Charles and you together. I little thought that ever I should have been so blessed. Ah! I begin to think G.o.d has yet some good in store for my last days! Do not then leave me just when I am beginning to taste of joy!”--And she clung to her with that pathetic look which Mary had ever found irresistble.
But upon this occasion she steeled her heart against all supplication.
It was the first time she had ever turned from the entreaty of old age or infirmity; and those only who have lived in the habitual practice of administering to the happiness of others can conceive how much it costs the generous heart to resist even the weaknesses of those it loves. But Mary felt she had already sacrificed too much to affection, and she feared the reproaches and ridicule that awaited her return to Beech Park. She therefore gently, though steadily, adhered to her resolution, only softening it by a promise of returning soon.
”What an angel goes there!” exclaimed Mrs. Lennox to her son, as Mary left the room to prepare for her departure. ”Ah! Charles, could I but hope to see her yours!”
Colonel Lennox smiled--”That must be when I am an angel myself then. A poor weather-beaten soldier like me must be satisfied with something less.”
”But is she not a lovely creature?” asked his mother, with some solicitude.
”Angels, you know, are always fair,” replied Colonel Lennox laughingly, trying to parry this attack upon his heart.
”Ah! Charles, that is not being serious. But young people now are different from what they were in my day. There is no such thing as falling in love now, you are all so cautious.”
And the good old lady's thoughts reverted to the time when the gay and gallant Captain Lennox had fallen desperately in love with her, as she danced a minuet in a blue satin sacque and Bologna hat at a county ball.
”You forget, my dear mother, what a knack I had in falling in love ten years ago. Since then, I confess I have got rather out of the way of it; but a little, a very little practice, I am sure, will make me as expert as ever;--and then I promise you shall have no cause to complain of my caution.”
Mrs. Lennox sighed and shook her head. She had long cherished the hope that if ever her son came home it would be to fall in love with and marry her beloved Mary; and she had dwelt upon this favourite scheme till it had taken entire possession of her mind. In the simplicity of her heart she also imagined that it would greatly help to accelerate the event were she to suggest the idea to her son, as she had no doubt but that the object of her affections must necessarily become the idol of his. So little did she know of human nature that the very means she used to accomplish her purpose were the most effectual she could have contrived to defeat it. Such is man, that his pride revolts from all attempts to influence his affections. The weak and the undiscerning, indeed, are often led to ”choose love by another's eyes;” but the lofty and independent spirit loves to create for itself those feelings which lose half their charms when their source is not in the depths of their own heart.
It was with no slight mortification that Mrs. Lennox saw Mary depart without having made the desired impression on the heart of her son; or, what was still more to be feared, of his having secured himself a place in her favour. But again and again she made Mary repeat her promise of returning soon, and spending some days with her. ”And then,” thought she, ”things will all come right. When they live together, and see each other constantly, they cannot possibly avoid loving each other, and all will be as it should be. G.o.d grant I may live to see it!”
And hope softened the pang of disappointment.