Part 24 (2/2)

How strange is it, Valerie, that we should be _so_ courageous and such cowards at the same time. Would you believe when I had collected myself, with a certain knowledge that my husband had deceived himself--a full conviction of the danger of my position when he found out his mistake, and that my future happiness was at stake--I felt glad that the deed was done, and would not have been unmarried again for the universe.

As I became more composed, I felt that it was time to act. I wiped away my tears and said, as I smiled upon my husband, who held my hand in his, 'I know that I have behaved very ill, and very foolishly, but I was so taken by surprise.'

”'Do you think that I love you the less for showing so much feeling, my dearest?' he replied, 'no, no, it only makes you still more dear to me, as it convinces me what a sacrifice you have made for my sake.'

”Now, Valerie, could there be a prettier speech, or one so apparently sincere, from a newly-married man to his bride, and yet recollect what he said to his friend not a quarter of an hour before, about having my parents in his power by the marriage not being legal? I really am inclined to believe that we have two souls, a good and an evil one, continually striving for the mastery; one for this world, and the other for the next, and that the evil one will permit the good one to have its influence, provided that at the same time it has its own or an equal share in the direction of us. For instance, I believe the colonel was sincere in what he said, and really does love me, supposing me to be Caroline Stanhope, with the mundane advantages to be gained by the marriage, and that these better feelings of humanity are allowed to be exercised, and not interfered with by the adverse party, who is satisfied with its own Mammon share. But the struggle is to come when the evil spirit finds itself defrauded of its portion, and then attempts to destroy the influence of the good. He does love me now, and would have continued to love me, if disappointment will not tear up his still slightly-rooted affections. Now comes my task to cherish and protect it, till it has taken firm root, and all that woman can do shall be done. I felt that all that I required was time.

”'Where are we going?' said I.

”'About twenty miles from London,' replied my husband, 'after which, that is to-morrow, you shall decide upon our future plans.'

”'I care not where,' replied I, 'with you place is indifferent, only do not refuse me the first favour that I request of you.'

”'Depend upon it I will not,' replied he.

”'It is this, dearest, take me where you will, but let it be three months before we return or come near London. You must feel my reason for making this request.'

”'I grant it with pleasure,' replied he, 'for three months I am yours, and yours only. We will live for one another.'

”'Yes, and never let us mention any thing about future prospects, but devote the three months to each other.'

”'I understand you,' replied the colonel, 'and I promise you it shall be so. I will have no correspondence even--there shall be nothing to annoy you or vex you in any way.'

”'For three months,' said I, extending my hand.

”'Agreed,' said he, 'and to tell you the truth, it would have been my own feeling, had it not been yours. When you strike iron, you should do it when it is hot, but when you have to handle it, you had better wait till it is cool; you understand me, and now the subject is dropped.'

”My husband has adhered most religiously to his word up to the present time, as you will see by the date of this letter. We are now visiting the lakes of c.u.mberland. Never could a spot be better situated for the furtherance of my wishes. The calm repose and silent beauty of these waters must be reflected upon the mind of any one of feeling, which the colonel certainly does not want, and when you consider that I am exerting all the art which poor woman has to please, I do hope and pray to heaven that I may succeed in entwining myself round his heart before his worldly views are destroyed by disappointment. Pray for me, dear Valerie--pray for one who loves you dearly, and who feels that the whole happiness of her life is at stake.--Yours,--

”Adele.”

”So far all goes well, my dear Adele,” thought I, ”but we have yet to see the end. I will pray for you with all my heart, for you deserve to be happy, and none can be more fascinating than you, when you exert yourself. What is it in women that I do not feel which makes them so mad after the other s.e.x? Instinct, certainly, for reason is against it.

Well, I have no objection to help others to commit the folly, provided that I am not led into it myself.” Such were my reflections, as I closed the letter from Adele.

A few days afterwards I received a note from Mr Selwyn, junior, informing me that his father had been made a puisne judge. What that was I did not know, except that he was a judge on the bench, of some kind. He also stated his intention of calling upon me on the next day.

”Yes,” thought I, ”to receive the music from Caroline. Of course, she will return it to me when I give her a lesson to-day.”

I was right in my supposition. Caroline brought me a piece of music with a note, saying, ”Here is the music belonging to Miss Selwyn, Valerie; will you take an opportunity of returning it to her? Any time will do; I presume she is in no hurry,” and Caroline coloured up, when her eyes met mine.

”To punish her,” I replied, ”Oh, no, there can be no hurry; I shall be down at Kew in a fortnight or three weeks, I will take it with me then.”

”But my note, thanking Mr Selwyn, will be of very long date,” replied Caroline, ”and I want the other piece of music belonging to me which I left at Kew.”

”Well, Caroline, you cannot expect me to be carrying your messages and going to the chambers of a handsome young Chancery-barrister.

By-the-bye, I had a note from him this morning, telling me that his father is advanced to the bench. What does that mean?”

”That his father is made a judge. Is that all he said?” replied Caroline, carelessly.

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