"But you are sleepy, Geoffrey. The rest of my mournful history will help to wile away the tedium of the long to-morrow."
CHAPTER XVI.
GEORGE HARRISON CONTINUES HIS HISTORY.
"The sorrows of my childhood were great," continued George, "but still they were counterbalanced by many joys. In spite of the disadvantages under which I laboured, my gay, elastic spirit surmounted them all.
"Naturally fearless and fond of adventure, I never shrunk from difficulties, but felt a chivalrous pride in endeavouring to overcome them. If I could not readily do this at the moment, I lived on in the hope that the day would arrive when by perseverance and energy, I should ultimately conquer.
"I have lived to prove that of which I early felt a proud conviction; that it is no easy matter for a wicked person, let him be ever so clever and cunning, to subdue a strong mind, which dares to be true to itself.
"Dinah North felt my superiority even as a child, and the mortifying consciousness increased her hatred. She feared the lofty spirit of the boy whom her tyrannical temper could not tame; who laughed at her threats, and defied her malice, and who, when freed from her control, enjoyed the sweets of liberty in a tenfold degree.
"Sir Alexander put me to a school in the neighbourhood, where I learned the first rudiments of my mother tongue, writing, reading, and simple arithmetic. The school closed at half-past four o'clock in the afternoon; when I returned to the Lodge, for so the cottage was called in which we resided, and which stood just within the park at the head of the noble avenue of old oaks and elms that led to the Hall. Two of the loveliest, sweetest children nature ever formed were always at the Park gates watching for my coming, when they ran to meet me with exclamations of delight, and we wandered forth hand in hand to look for wild fruit and flowers among the bosky dells and romantic uplands of that enchanting spot.
"Alice Mornington and Margaretta Moncton were nearly the same age, born at least within three months of each other, and were six years younger than I. Strikingly different in their complexion, appearance and disposition, the two little girls formed a beautiful contrast to each other. Alice was exquisitely fair, with large, brilliant, blue eyes, like my poor mother's, and long silken ringlets of sunny hair which curled naturally upon her snow-white shoulders. She was tall and stately for her age, and might have been a princess, for the noble dignity of her carriage would not have disgraced a court.
"She was all life and spirit. The first in every sport, the last to yield to fatigue or satiety. Her passions were warm and headstrong; her temper irritable; her affections intense and constant, and her manners so frank and winning that while conscious that she had a thousand faults, you could but admire and love her.
"A stranger might have thought her capricious, but her love of variety arose more from the exuberance of her fancy than from any love of change. She was a fair and happy child, the idol of her fond brother's heart, till one baneful passion marred what God and nature made so beautiful.
"Margaret Moncton, outwardly, was less gifted than Alice Mornington, but she far surpassed her foster-sister in mental endowments. Her stature was small, almost diminutive. Her features neither regular nor handsome except the dark eyes, the beauty of which I think I never saw surpassed.
"Her complexion was pure but very pale, and her lofty, thoughtful brow wore a serious expression from infancy. In our wildest revels on the green sward, you seldom heard Margaret laugh; but when pleased, she had a most bewitching smile, which lighted up her calm countenance till every feature beamed with an inexpressible grace. Her face was the mirror of purity and truth, and you felt, whilst looking upon it, that it was impossible for Margaret to deceive.
"How could I be unhappy, while I had these two beautiful children for my daily companions, and the most charming rural scenery at my immediate command?
"Sir Alexander came every day to the Lodge to see his child, and always lavished upon me the most flattering marks of his favour. His manner to my mother was, at first, shy and reserved. This wore off by degrees, and before two years had expired, from the death of his wife, his visits became so constant, and his attentions so marked, that Dinah once more began to entertain hopes that her ambitious schemes for her daughter might yet be realized. These hopes were only frustrated by the sudden death of the object for whom they were cherished. My mother, for some weeks, had complained of an acute pain in her left side, just under her breast, and the medicines she procured from the doctor afforded her no relief. She grew nervous and apprehensive of the consequences, but as her personal appearance was not at all injured by her complaint, Dinah ridiculed her fears.
"'You may laugh as you please, mother,' said she, the very day before she died, 'but I feel this pain will be the death of me—and I so unfit to die,' she added, with a deep sigh.
"'Nonsense!' returned Dinah, 'you will wear your wedding clothes a second time, before we put on your shroud.'
"My mother only answered with another deep-drawn sigh. She passed a sleepless night—the doctor was sent for in the morning, gave her a composing draught, and told her to make her mind easy, for she had nothing to fear.
"I always slept in the same bed with my mother. That night I had a bad cold and could not sleep; but knowing that she was not well, I lay quite still, fearing to disturb her. She slept well during the early part of the night. The clock had just struck twelve when she rose up in the bed, and called Dinah to come to her quickly. Her voice sounded hollow and tremulous.
"'What ails you, Rachel?' grumbled the hard woman; 'disturbing a body at this hour of the night.'
"'Be it night or morning,' said my mother, 'I am dying, and this hour will be my last.'
"'Then in the name of God! send for the doctor.'
"'It is too late now. He can do me no good: I am going fast; but there is something on my mind, mother, which I must tell you before I go. Sit down beside me on the bed, whilst I have strength left to do it, and swear to me mother, that you will not abuse the confidence I am about to repose in you.'
"Dinah nodded assent.
"'That will not do. I must have your solemn word—your oath!'
"'What good will that do, Rachel? no oath can bind me—I believe in no God, and fear no devil!'
"This confession was accompanied by a hideous, cackling laugh. Rachel groaned aloud.
"'Oh, mother! there is a God—an avenging God! Could you feel what I now feel, and see what I now see, like the devils, you would believe and tremble. You will know it one day, and like me, find out that repentance comes too late. I will, however, tell the plain truth, and your diabolical policy, will, doubtless, suggest the use which may be made of such an important secret.'
"There was a long pause, after which some sentences passed between them, in such a low voice, that I could not distinctly hear them; at last I heard my mother say,
"'You never saw these children, or you would not wonder that my heart so clave to that fair babe. You thought that I accepted Robert Moncton's bribe, and put the other child out of the way.'
"'And did you not?' cried the eager old woman, breathless with curiosity.
"'I took the bribe. But the child died a natural death, and I was saved the commission of a frightful crime, which you and your master were constantly writing to me, to urge me to commit. Now, listen, mother.'
"What she said was in tones so low, that, though I strained every nerve to listen, as I should have done, had it been a ghost story, or any tale of horror, the beating of my own heart frustrated all my endeavours.
"Rachel's communication appeared to astonish her mother. Her dark, wrinkled brows contracted until not a particle of the eyes were visible, and she sat for a long while in deep thought, rocking herself to and fro on the bed, whilst the dying woman regarded her with expanded eyes and raised hands, locked tightly together. At last she spoke.
"'Dinah! make no ill use of my confidence, or there will come a day of vengeance for both you and me. What shall we gain by being tools in the hands of a wicked man like Robert Moncton. Why should we sell our souls for naught, to do his dirty work.'
"'Not to serve him will I do aught to injure the child. No, no. Dinah North is not such a fool. If I do it to gratify my own revenge, that's another thing. I have this bad, bold Robert in my power. This secret will be a fortune in itself—will extort from his mean, avaricious soul, a portion of his ill-gotten wealth. Ha, my child! you did well and wisely, and may die in peace, without the stain of blood upon your soul.'
"Rachel shook her head despondingly.
"'There is no peace, saith my God, for the wicked. My soul consented to the crime, and whilst the thought was uppermost in my heart, the bolt of the Almighty smote me, and my resolution wavered; but, the guilt, at this moment, appears to me the same. It is a dreadful thing to die without hope. Where is Alice?'
"'Sleeping. Shall I bring her to you?'
"'Let her sleep. I feel sleepy, too. Smooth my pillow, mother. Give me a little water. I feel easy now. Perhaps, I shall awake in the morning better.'
"The pillows were arranged—the draught given; but the sleeper never awoke again.
"Her mysterious communications, which only came by halves to my ears, filled my mind with vague conjectures, and I cannot help thinking, to this hour, that the young heir of Moncton came to an untimely death, and she blamed herself so bitterly for not having me supply his place.
"Stern as my mother had been during her life, her death was a severe blow to us all, especially to Alice and me; as it removed from our humble home an object most dear to us both, the little lady of the manor, to whom we had ever given the endearing name of sister.
"After Margaret left us, how dull did all our pastimes appear. Alice and I wandered sadly and silently among our old haunts; the song of the birds cheered us no longer; the flowers seemed less fair; the murmur of the willow-crowned brook less musical; the presiding genius of the place had vanished; we felt that we were alone.
"I had now reached my fourteenth year, and Sir Alexander, true to the promise made to his wife, sent me to an excellent school in the city of York. Here I made such good use of my time, that before three years had elapsed I was second boy in the head class, and had won the respect of the master and ushers. My munificent patron was greatly pleased with the progress I had made, and hinted at sending me to college, if I continued to deserve his good opinion.
"Ah, Geoffrey! those were halcyon days, when I returned to spend the vacations at the Lodge, and found myself ever a welcome visitor at the Hall. With a proud heart I recounted to Sir Alexander, all my boyish triumphs at school, and the good baronet listened to my enthusiastic details with the most intense interest, and fought all his juvenile battles over again, with boyish ardour, to the infinite delight of our admiring audience, Margaret and Alice. The latter spent most of her time with Miss Moncton, who was so much attached to her foster-sister, and shed so many tears at parting from her, that Sir Alexander yielded to her earnest request for Alice to remain with her, and the young heiress and the huntsman's blooming daughter were seldom apart. Miss Moncton's governess, an amiable and highly accomplished woman, took as much pains in teaching Alice as she did in superintending the education of her high-born pupil. The beautiful girl acquired her tasks so rapidly, and with such an intense desire for improvement, that Sir Alexander declared, that she beat his Madge hollow.
"Dinah North exulted in the growing charms of her grand-daughter. If the old woman regarded anything on earth with affection, it was the tall, fair girl so unlike herself. And Alice, too—I have often wondered how it were possible—Alice loved with the most ardent affection, that forbidding-looking, odious creature.
"To me, since the death of my mother, she had been civil but reserved—never addressing me without occasion required—and I neither sought nor cared for her regard.
"It was on the return of one of those holidays, when I returned home full of eager anticipations of happiness, of joyous days spent at the Park in company with Margaret and Alice, that I first beheld that artful villain, Robert Moncton.
"It was a lovely July evening. The York coach set me down at the Park gates, and I entered the pretty cottage with my scanty luggage on my back, and found the lawyer engaged in earnest conversation with my grandmother.
"Struck with the appearance of the man, which at first sight is very remarkable, I paused for some minutes on the threshold, unobserved by the parties. Like you, Geoffrey, I shall never forget the impression his countenance made upon me. The features so handsome, the colouring so fine, the person that of a finished gentleman; and yet, all this pleasing combination of form and face marred by that cold, cruel, merciless eye. Its expression so dead, so joyless, sent a chill through my whole frame, and I shrank from encountering its icy gaze, and was about quietly to retire by a back door, when my attention was arrested by the following brief conversation.
"'I should like to see the lad.'
"'We expect him home from school by the coach to-night.'
"'What age is he?'
"'Just sixteen.'
"'What does Sir Alexander mean to do for him?'
"'Send him to college, I believe. He is very fond of him.'
"'Humph!—and then to London to make a lawyer of him. Leave him to me, Dinah, I will make a solicitor of him in earnest. I have taught many a bold heart and reckless hand to solicit the charity of others.'
"'Devil doubt you!' rejoined the fiend with a hollow, cackling laugh. 'But you may find the boy one too many for you, with all your cunning. He'll not start at shadows, nor stumble over straws. I have tamed many a proud spirit in my day, but this boy defies my power. I fear and hate him, but I cannot crush him. But hush!—here he is.'
"I bustled forward and flung my portmanteau heavily to the ground. 'How are you, grandmother? How's Alice? All well, I hope?'
"'Do you see the gentleman, Philip?'
"'Gentleman! I beg his pardon. A fine evening, sir; but very hot and dusty travelling by the coach. I have not tasted anything since breakfast, grandmother; and I am tired and hungry.'
"'Yours is the hungry age,' said the lawyer, staring me full in the face, as if he was taking a proof impression for legal purposes. His cold, searching look brought the blood to my cheeks, and I returned the impertinent scrutiny with a glance of defiance.
"He rose; nodded meaningly to Dinah, bowed slightly to me, and left the cottage.
"The next minute Alice was in my arms.
"'Brother! dear, darling brother! welcome, welcome a thousand times.'
"Oh, what a contrast to the dark, joyless countenance of Dinah North, was the cherub face of Alice—laughing in the irresistible glee of her young heart. I forgot my long, tiresome journey, dust, heat, and hunger, as I pulled her on my knee, and covered her rosy cheeks with kisses.
"'What news since I left, Alice?'
"'Sad news, Philip. Dear Madge is in London on a visit to her aunt; and there is a dull, cross boy staying at the Hall, with a very hard name—Theophilus Moncton—Margaret's cousin. But he is nothing like her, though he calls her his little wife. But Madge says that she will never have him, though his father is very rich.'
"'I am sureyou willhate him, Philip, for he calls us beggar's brats, and wonders that Sir Alexander suffers his daughter to play with us. I told him that he was very rude; and that he had better not affront you, for you would soon teach him better manners. But he only sneered at me, and said, "My father's agentleman. He never suffers me to associate with peoplebeneathus. Your brother had better keep out of my way, or I will order my groom to horsewhip him." I felt very angry and began to cry, and Sir Alexander came in and reproved the boy, and told me I had better return to grandmamma until Mr. Moncton and his son had left the Hall.'
"While little Alice, ran on thus to me, I felt stung to the quick; and all the pride of my nature warring within. For the first time in my life, I became painfully conscious of the difference of rank which existed between me and my benefactor; I was restless and unhappy, and determined not to go near the Hall, until Sir Alexander bade me do so himself.
"But days passed, and I saw nothing of the good Baronet, and Alice and I were obliged to content ourselves by roaming through all the old beloved haunts, and talking of Margaret. We were returning one evening through the fine avenue of oaks, which led to the front entrance of the demesne, when a pony rushed past us at full gallop. A boyish impulse, tempted me to give a loud halloo, in order to set the beautiful animal off at its wildest speed. In a few minutes we met a lad of my own age, booted and spurred, with a whip in his hand, running in the same direction the pony had taken. He was in a towering passion, and coming up to us, he cried out, with a menacing air—
"'You impudent rascal! how dared you to shout in that way, to frighten my horse, when you saw me endeavouring to catch him?'
"'I saw no such thing,' I replied, drily. 'I admired the pony, and shouted to see how much faster he could run.'
"'You deserve a good thrashing,' quoth he. 'Go and catch the horse for me, or I will complain to Sir Alexander of your conduct.'
"'Sir Alexander is not my master, neither are you. I shall do no such thing.'
"'Do it instantly!' stamping with his foot.
"'Do it yourself. You look quite as fit for a groom as I do.'
"I tried to pass him, but he stepped into the centre of the path, and hindered me. To avoid a collision was now impossible.
"'You insolent young blackguard!' he cried, 'do you know that you are speaking to a gentleman?'
"'Indeed!' I said, with a provoking smile. 'I ought to thank you for the information, for I never should have suspected the fact.'
"With a yell of rage, he struck me in the face with the butt end of his whip. I sprang upon him with the strength of a tiger, and seizing his puny form in my arms, I dashed him beneath my feet, and after bestowing upon him sundry hearty kicks, rejoined the terrified Alice, and left Mr. Theophilus Moncton, to gather up his fallen dignity, and make the best of his way home to the Hall.
"This frolic cost me far more than I expected. The next morning, Sir Alexander rode over to the Lodge, and severely reprimanded me for my conduct; and ended his lecture, by affirming in positive terms, that if I did not beg his young relative's pardon, he would withdraw his favour from me for ever.
"This, I proudly refused to do—and the Baronet as proudly told me, 'To see his face no more!'
"I looked sorrowfully up as he said this. The tears were in my eyes, for I loved him very much—but my heart was too full to speak.
"He leant down from his horse, expecting my answer. I was silent: the colour mounted to his cheeks; he waited a few minutes longer; I made no sign, and he struck the spurs into his horse, and rode quickly away.
"'There goes my only friend!' I cried. 'Curse the mean wretch, who robbed me of my friend! I only regret that I did not kill him!'
"Thus for one boyish act of indiscretion I was flung friendless upon the world. Yet, Geoffrey, were the thing to do again, I feel that I could not, and would not, act otherwise.
"Time has convinced me that Robert Moncton, acting with his usual policy, had made Sir Alexander ashamed of his connection with us, and he gladly availed himself of the first plausible excuse to cast me off. Alice deeply lamented my disgrace; but the whole affair afforded mirth to my grandmother, who seemed greatly to enjoy my unfortunate triumph over the boy with thehard name."
CHAPTER XVII.
HARRISON FINDS A FRIEND IN NEED.
"During my residence at school in York, my master was often visited by a wealthy merchant who bore the same name with myself. This man was an old bachelor, very eccentric, but universally esteemed as one of the most benevolent of men. He was present at one of the school examinations in which I took many prizes, and asking my name he found out that he was related to my father, and bestowed upon me many marks of favour, such as presenting me with useful books, and often asking me over to his house to dine, or spend the evening.
"Flattered by his attentions to me, I had lost no opportunity of increasing our friendship, and I determined to apply to him in my present distress.
"I was a perfect novice in the art of letter-writing, never having penned an epistle in my life, and after making several attempts with which I was perfectly disgusted, I determined to walk over to the city and make my application in person to Mr. Mornington.
"Without communicating my intentions to Alice, I carefully tied up a change of linen in a silk handkerchief, and with the mighty sum of five shillings in my pocket, commenced my pedestrian journey of thirty odd miles.
"I started in the morning by day-break, and without meeting with any particular adventures on the road, I arrived at six o'clock in the evening, foot-sore and weary at the rich man's door. When there, my heart, which had been as stout as a lion's on the road, failed me, and I sat down upon the broad stone steps that led up to the house, sorely depressed and uncertain what course to take.
"This I knew would not do: the night was coming on, and the rain, which had threatened all day, now began to fall fast. Making a desperate effort, I sprang up the steps, and gave a gentle knock, so gentle that it was unheard; and unable to summon sufficient courage to repeat the experiment, I resumed my seat until some more fortunate applicant should seek admittance.
"Not many minutes elapsed before the quick loud rap of the postman brought Mrs. Jolly, the housekeeper, to the door; and edging close to him of the red jacket, I asked in a tremulous voice—'If Mr. Mornington was at home?'
"'Why, dearee me, master Philip, is that you?' said the kind woman, elevating her spectacles: 'who would have thought of seeing you t'night?'
"'Who, indeed! But, my dear Mrs. Jolly, is Mr. Mornington disengaged, and can I see him?'
"'He is t'home, and you can speak to him, but not just now. He's to his dinner, and doan't like to be disturbed. But come this way, an I'll tell him you are here.'
"'Who's that you are speaking to, Mrs. Jolly?' cried my worthy old friend as we passed the dining-room door, through which the footmen were carrying an excellent dinner to table.
"'Only Mr. Philip, sir.'
"'Mr. Philip!' and the next moment, the old man came out and grasped me warmly by the hand. 'Why, lad, what brings you back to school so soon—tired of play already, hey?'
"'No, sir. I fear play will soon tire of me. I am to go to school no more.'
"'Sorry to hear that, Phil. Just the time when instruction would be of the most service to you. You would learn more in the ensuing year, than in all that have gone before it. Leave school! no, no, I must see you the head boy in it yet.'
"'That was my ambition, sir. But you know I am only a poor orphan lad, entirely dependent on the bounty of Sir Alexander Moncton. I have offended this gentleman, and he will do no more for me; and I walked from the Park to-day to ask your advice as to what course I had better pursue, and in what way I am most likely to earn my own living.'
"The old gentleman looked grave.
"'Offended Sir Alexander? You must have acted very imprudently to do that, and he so kind to you. Walked all the way from Moncton. Bless the boy, how tired and hungry you must be! Sit down, young Philip Mornington, and get your dinner with old Philip Mornington; and we will talk over these matters by and by.'
"Gladly I accepted the dear old gentleman's hearty invitation. I had not tasted food since early dawn, and was so outrageously hungry and eat with such a right good will, that he often stopped and laughed heartily at my voracity.
"'Well done, Philip! Don't be ashamed: hold in your plate for another slice of beef. Thirty miles of hard walking at this season of the year, may well give a boy of sixteen, strong and healthy like you, a good appetite.'
"After the cloth was drawn, and the old gentleman had refreshed me with a couple of glasses of excellent wine, obedient to his request I related to him my adventure with Theophilus Moncton in the park, and its unfortunate results.
"Instead of blaming me, the whole affair seemed greatly to amuse the hearty old man. He fell back in his chair, and chuckled and laughed until he declared that his sides ached.
"'And was it for punishing that arrogant puppy as he deserved, that Sir Alexander cast you, my fine fellow, from his favour?'
"'He might have forgiven that. It was for refusing so positively his commands, in not asking young Moncton's pardon.'
"'If you had obeyed him in this instance, Philip, you would have forfeited my good opinion for ever, and would have deserved to have been kicked by Sir Alexander's lackeys for your meanness. Don't look so cast down, boy. I honour you for your self-respect and independence. You have other friends besides Sir Alexander Moncton, who will not forsake you for taking your own part like a man. You shall go to school yet—ay, and become the head scholar in Dr. Trimmer's head class, and finish your education at Oxford, or my name is not Philip Mornington.'
"How well did this excellent, warm-hearted, generous man perform his promise; how ill I profited by the education he gave me, and the wealth he bequeathed to me at his death, the subsequent portion of my history will reveal.
"I went to school at the end of the vacation, but as a day-boarder; Mr. Mornington, having told me to consider his house as my future home.
"A boy who came from our village to Dr. Trimmer's school, told me that Sir Alexander's passion soon cooled, and he rode over to the Lodge a week after I left, to inquire after his old pet, and was surprised and exasperated to find the bird flown, and taken by the hand by a man for whom he had a great personal antipathy; who had ever opposed him in politics, and had twice carried an election against him.
"There was enough of revenge in my composition to feel glad that Sir Alexander was annoyed at my good-fortune.
"The next year saw me at college, with a handsome allowance from my generous patron, to enable me to establish my claims as a gentleman. I will pass over the three years I spent at this splendid abode of learning and science.
"The gratitude I felt for all Mr. Mornington had done for me, for a long time restrained me from indulging in the wild excesses which disgraced the conduct of most of the young men with whom I associated. This reluctance, however, to do and countenance evil, gradually wore off, and I became as wild and dissipated as my companions.
"I formed many agreeable acquaintances at college, but had only one who really deserved the name of a friend. Kind, gentle and studious, Cornelius Laurie (for so I shall call him) mingled very little with his fellow students: his health being delicate, he spent most of his leisure hours in walking, an exercise of which he was particularly fond, and in which generally participated.
"His mild, intelligent countenance first won my regard. I sought his acquaintance, found him easy of access, friendly and communicative, and always anxious to oblige every one as far as lay in his power. Commanding an excellent income, he was always ready to assist the improvident who had expended theirs, and with such a disposition, you may be certain that the calls upon his purse were by no means few. He formed a strong attachment to me, and we usually spent most of our time together.
"Cornelius invited me to pass the Christmas vacation with him in town. When at home he resided with his aunt, a widow lady who had brought up his only sister, who had been left an orphan at a very early age. Charlotte Laurie was several years younger than her brother; and in speaking of her he had always told me that she was a very pretty girl, but I was not prepared to behold the beautiful and fascinating creature to whom I was introduced.
"Charlotte Laurie was a child of nature, without display or affectation; conscious of her great personal attractions only so far as to render her more agreeable—for what beautiful woman was ever ignorant of her charms? My pretty Lotty knew perfectly the power they gave her over the restless and inconstant heart of man, but she did not abuse it.
"My passions, Geoffrey, by nature, are as warm and impetuous as your own, and they soon betrayed me into love; and I thought that the fair girl to whom I had lost my heart was not insensible to the passion she had inspired. But when I recalled my obscure parentage, of which Cornelius was perfectly ignorant; and the uncertainty of my future prospects, I felt that it would be dishonourable in me to advance my suit to the young lady. To remain in the house and keep silent upon a subject so important to my peace, I found would be impossible; and I feigned a letter from Mr. Mornington, whom I called my uncle, requiring my immediate presence in York.
"My departure caused great regret to the family. Cornelius remonstrated; Mrs. H—— questioned the necessity of my journey; Charlotte said nothing, but left the room in tears. Strongly tempted as I was to stay, I remained firm to my original purpose, and bade adieu to my amiable friends, without breathing a word even to Cornelius of my attachment for his sister.
"On my way to York I called at my old home, and was received with the most lively demonstrations of joy by Alice, whom I found a blooming girl of fifteen. Old Dinah told me, as she scowled at my handsome dress and improved appearance, 'That she supposed I was now too fine a gentleman to call her grandmother, or Alice sister?'
"I assured her that my improved circumstances had not changed my heart, nor made me ashamed of my old friends. Something, I fear, in my looks, contradicted my words, for she turned from me with a scornful smile:
"'The world,' said she, 'was a good school for teaching people the art of falsehood.'
"Her sarcasms made me very uncomfortable—for my conscience convicted me of their truth—and turning to Alice I begged her to tell me the news, for I was certain a great deal must have happened in the neighbourhood during the four years I had been absent.
"'No,' said Alice; 'we go on much as usual. Sir Alexander and Margaret are very kind to me, and I go every day up to the Hall. But she is Miss Moncton now, and I am plain Alice Mornington. Mr. Theophilus is often there; and he is so much improved, Philip, you would never know him. He is no longer proud and disagreeable, but so affable and kind, and always sees me safe home to the Lodge. People say that he is to marry Miss Moncton; but I don't believe a word of it. He does not love her I am certain; for he told me so a few days ago; and that he thought me a thousand times handsomer than his cousin!'
"While Alice ran on thus, I kept my eyes fixed upon her beautiful face; and from the heightening of her colour when speaking of Theophilus, I was convinced that young as she was, she was not insensible to his flattery. Anxious to warn her of her danger, I drew her arm through mine, and we strolled together into the park.
"'Dear Alice,' said I, affectionately; 'do you love your brother as well as you used to do in years long past?'
"'Philip, do you doubt my love?' she answered, reproachfully.
"'Not in the least, Alice. I know your heart to be warm and true; but years make great changes. Four years have fled away since we met, and you are nearly grown into a woman. Perhaps you will be angry with me if I venture to give you a little brotherly advice.'
"'Not without you scold me too much.'
"'My lecture, Alice, I will confine to a few words. Do not listen, dear child, to the flattering speeches of Theophilus Moncton. He means you no good.'
"'How can you know that?' she said, quickly.
"'From the general character which the man bears. From my experience of him when a boy. Avoid his company; he means to deceive you.'
"'Philip, you wrong him, indeed, you do!' she cried, with flashing eyes. 'He never talks to me of love, he only seeks to be my friend. I am too young to think of love. I don't know what being in love is—but I do feel very grateful to one so much richer and better than me, and who is heir to all these beautiful groves, and that fine old Hall, taking such an interest in my welfare—particularly,' she added, with great emphasis on her words, 'after he received such unworthy treatment from a brother of mine.'
"'You surely do not mean what you say, Alice?'
"'I never say what I do not mean; and if you come back to us, Philip, only to quarrel with us, you had better have stayed away.'
"For a few minutes I felt terribly annoyed; but when I recollected that these words fell from the lips of a spoilt child, I restrained my anger, in the hope of saving her from the ruin I feared might be impending over her.
"'Alice, you are a simple, little girl; as such I forgive you. You are not aware of the danger to which you are exposed. Young people are so ignorant of the treachery of the world, and so confident in their own strength to resist temptation, that they easily fall into the snares laid for them by wicked and designing men. If you persist in receiving the attentions of this man, who would consider it the utmost degradation to make you his wife, I, as your brother and natural protector, will consider it my duty to remove you from this place.'
"'I will not go!' she cried; stopping suddenly and looking me in the face with an air of defiance. 'You are not your own master yet, much less mine. I shall remain here with my dear, old grandmother, as long as she lives. And let me tell you, Mr. Philip, I am as competent to manage my own affairs as you are!'
"Could this be Alice?
"I looked at her, and looked again. The beauty of her countenance seemed changed. I turned from her with a deep sigh.
"'Oh, Alice, sister Alice! I tremble for you; so young and so self-willed. This is not my Alice, the happy, confiding Alice, who once loved me so tenderly.'
"'I did love you, Philip, very much,' she replied, in a softened voice; 'but how was my love returned? You quarrelled with the only friend we had in the world. One, too, who had done so much for us. To whose bounty we were indebted for a home and daily bread; for the clothes we wore, for the instruction we received—who treated us in every respect more like his own children, than the poor recipients of his noble generosity. You forgot all this. You insolently refused to apologize to his young relative, the heir of his title and wealth, for having grossly insulted him, and left your home and his protection without bidding this dear sister, for whose well-doing you are so deeply concerned, and who shared in your disgrace, one short farewell.'
"'Alice—Alice!'
"'Hush, sir; hear me to the end, if you please. You acted more ungratefully still, when you sought employment from one of Sir Alexander's bitterest enemies; and never wrote a single line either to your injured patron or to us. Was this love? Young as I am, Philip Mornington, I could not have been guilty of such baseness. I despise your conduct; and advice comes very ill from a person who could be guilty of such.'
"She turned haughtily away; and I, Geoffrey, I stood overwhelmed with confusion and remorse. I had never seen my conduct in this light before. I had all along imagined myself the injured party, and looked upon Sir Alexander as an unreasonable persecutor. But I felt at that moment, as I stood humbled before that proud girl, that I had not acted right—that some concession was due on my part to the man from whom I had received so many benefits; and but for very shame I would have sought his presence, acknowledged my error, and entreated his pardon.
"Oh, why does this stubborn pride so often stand between us and our best intentions. I let the moment pass, and my heart remained true to its stern determination, not to yield one inch of what I falsely termed independence. My reverie was dispelled by Alice. She took my hand kindly.
"'You look grave, Philip. I have put these serious thoughts into your head, and you feel sorry for the past. My anger is all gone. I forgive you from my very heart. So give me a kiss, and let us be friends; but no more lectures if you please for the future. I will not stand a scolding—not even from you. You need not fear that I shall disgrace you: I am too proud to place myself in the power of any one. I like, yes, I love Theophilus Moncton, but he will never make a fool of me, or any one else. But—hush—here is Miss Moncton.'
"The blood crimsoned my face as a sudden turning in the woodland path, brought me within a few paces of one whom at that moment I would gladly have shunned. To retreat was impossible. I raised my hat, and with, her usual frankness, Margaret held out her hand.
"I pressed it respectfully between my own without venturing to raise my eyes to her face. She perceived my confusion, and doubtless defined the cause.
"'You have been a sad truant, Philip. But you are welcome home. I, for one, rejoice to see my dear foster-brother again.'
"'Is that possible?' I stammered out—'Dear Miss Moncton, I am only too happy to be allowed to plead for myself—I feel that I have sinned against my good and generous benefactor; that this kindness on your part, is wholly undeserved. What shall I do to regain your good opinion.'
"'Say nothing at all about it, Geoffrey. It was a boyish fault, and my father has often repented that he treated it so seriously. For my own part, I do not blame you for thrashing Theophilus; had I been provoked in the same manner, and a lad of your age, I would have done it myself. My quarrel with you, is for leaving the Park, and deserting us all, before a reconciliation could take place. You knew that my father's anger was like dew upon the grass, evaporated by the first sunbeam, and that we loved you dearly—so that your conduct appears inexcusable and heartless.'
"'Oh, do not say that, Miss Moncton. What I did was perfectly impulsive, without thought or premeditation. I could not imagine that I was in the wrong, and Sir Alexander's conduct appeared to me cruel and unjust.'
"'Come with me to the Hall, Mr. Mornington, and I will plead your case to this cruel tyrant. My eloquence with papa is quite irresistible; and he, poor dear, is more ready to forgive, than you are to ask forgiveness.'
"This was said, with one of her bewitching smiles, which lighted up like a passing sunbeam her calm, pale face.
"'You are too good, Miss Moncton. I would gladly avail myself of your invitation, but I must proceed on my journey to York immediately. I hope, however, soon to visit Moncton again; when I will, with Sir Alexander's permission, explain my conduct, and ask his pardon.'
"'I hate procrastination in these matters, which pertain to the heart and conscience,' said Margaret. 'My motto, when prompted by either, to perform an act of duty, is—now; when we seek forgiveness from God, or from a friend, we should never defer it to the future, for the opportunity once neglected may never again be ours.'
"This was said with some severity. A sort of mental cowardice kept me back and hindered me effectually from profiting by her advice. Just then, I felt it was out of my power to meet Sir Alexander. I had not courage to enter his presence in my present mood.
"'Alice,' said Margaret, turning from me with a disappointed air, 'what has keptyouso long away from the Hall?'
"'I grow too proud to visit my rich friends,' returned Alice, in a tone between sarcasm and raillery.
"'There is only one species of pride, that I tolerate,' said Margaret, calmly—'the pride of worth. That pride which enables a good man to struggle successfully against the arrogance of the world.'
"I turned to the speaker with admiration. Had she been born a peasant, Margaret Moncton would have possessed the dignity of a lady, and the little lecture she thought fit to bestow upon my beautiful wayward sister, was dictated by the same noble spirit.
"'We should never be proud, Alice, of the gifts of nature, or fortune, which depend upon no merit of our own. Beauty and wealth have their due influence in the world, where their value is greatly overrated; but they add little in reality to the possessor. Deprived of both, persons of little moral worth, would relapse into their original insignificance; while those, who improve the talents entrusted to their care by Providence, possess qualities which defy the power of change. Such persons can alone afford to be proud, yet these of all others make the least display and think most humbly of themselves.'
"This was said playfully, but Alice did not at all relish the reproof; which, though, disregarded by her, made a deep impression upon me."
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MEETING.
"The next morning I arrived in York, and hastened to the house of Mr. Mornington. I found the dear old gentleman ill in bed, but in his usual excellent spirits.
"On expressing my concern for his illness, he laughed at my long face; told me it was a trifle, and he should soon be well again. Alas, he was not a true prophet! In a few weeks I followed my worthy friend to his grave; and found myself at the age of one-and-twenty, my own master, and sole heir to his large property.
"The joy felt at this unexpected good fortune was more than counterbalanced by the loss of the generous donor. Gladly would I have resigned the wealth he so nobly bequeathed me, if by so doing I could have recalled the dear old man to life. I was detained for several months in York, settling my affairs. I lost no time, however, in acquainting Cornelius, by letter, of my good fortune. I took this opportunity of mentioning my attachment to his sister, and urged him, if he valued my happiness, to plead with her in my behalf. His answer, though kind, was far from satisfactory to a young and ardent lover.
"He informed me that Charlotte was not insensible to my passion; and that he knew that she entertained from me a sincere esteem; but it was entirely out of her power to accept any offer of marriage without the consent of her guardian; or she would lose the property bequeathed to her by her father; who had left this stringent clause in his will.
"For himself, he continued, nothing would give him greater pleasure, than to see his beloved sister united to a man whom he loved, and whom he considered worthy of her regard; particularly, as he found his own health daily declining, and was about to take a journey to the south of France, in the hope of deriving some benefit from change of climate and scene.
"He urged me to return immediately to London; to plead my own cause with Charlotte, and to spend a few days with him, before he left England; as he felt, that it was more than probable, that we might never meet again.
"The last mournful sentence decided me, and the next morning found me on the road to London; and I determined to take Moncton Park in my route, and seek a reconciliation with Sir Alexander. After what had passed between me and Miss Moncton, I flattered myself that this would be an easy matter.
"I was no longer a poor orphan boy, dependent upon his bounty; but a well-educated, wealthy man, whose fortune was equal, if not greater than his own. There was no favour I could ask, or that he could bestow, beyond the renewal of that friendship which formed the delight of my boyhood, and of which I had been so suddenly deprived.
"As I rode up the noble avenue of oaks which led to the Hall, I felt so confident of success, so vain of my altered fortunes, so proud of the noble horse I rode, that my spirits grew buoyant, and my cheeks glowed with anticipated pleasure.
"'Is Sir Alexander at home?' I eagerly demanded of the liveried servant that opened the door.
"'He is, sir. What name shall I send up?' I gave him my card, and was shown into the library, while he carried it up to his master.
"Years had fled away, since I last stood within that room, a happy thoughtless boy. How vividly did every book and picture recall the blessed hours I had passed there, with Margaret and Alice, when the weather was wet, and we could not play abroad! It was in this apartment, with its carved oak wainscoting and antique windows of stained glass, in which we generally held our revels, turning over the huge folios in search of pictures.
"There was the Book of Martyrs, with all its revolting details of human bigotry; and its dreadful exhibitions of human endurance amidst scorn and agony. On these we gazed in mysterious awe; and as we turned over the horrible pages, we said to one another, 'that we were glad we were not Christians in those days.'
"Then, there was Descartes' ancient philosophy. A huge tome, full of quaint pictures of gods and goddesses, and angels and devils, on which we were never tired or gazing; infinitely preferring the latter, with their curious tails and horns, to the former; whom we called, 'Fat lazy-looking children with wings.' 'Goldsmith's World,' 'Buffon's Natural History,' and the whole family of Encyclopedias, with their numerous prints, were among our chief favourites, and helped to beguile the long wet day. Sir Alexander often assisted himself at these exhibitions, and seemed as much pleased with showing us the pictures as we were in looking at them.
"From the cherished memories of former years, I was recalled by the entrance of the servant, who, with an air of rude familiarity, told me—'that Sir Alexander Moncton would never be at home toMister Philip Mornington.'
"Thunder-struck with this unexpected blow, and writhing under a bitter sense of humiliation, I affected an air of contemptuous indifference and turned to depart; when a light grasp was laid upon my arm, and I encountered the dark soul-lighted eyes of Margaret Moncton, moistened with tears, and fixed upon me with a gaze of mournful interest,
"'Stay, Mr. Mornington. Dear, Philip! stay, I beseech you, for one little moment.'
"'Let me go, Miss Moncton. You deceived me into the belief that my reception would have been very different—I feel that I have no business here.'
"'That was your own fault, in deferring thenowof to-day, to thefutureof the unknown to-morrow,' said Margaret, sadly. 'But you must stay; I insist upon your hearing me speak a few words before you leave this house.'
"I remained silent and passive, and she continued—'There was a time, Philip, when your sister Margaret would not have asked anything of you in vain.' The tears flowed fast down her pale cheeks, and I felt the small hand which lay on mine tremble violently.
"'Dear Miss Moncton,' said I, gently leading her to a seat, and taking one beside her, 'you must make some allowance for mortified pride and wounded feelings. Time has not in the least diminished the affection and respect I have ever felt for you, and which your present kindness is not at all likely to lessen. I should, however, be deeply concerned, if your condescension should draw down upon you the displeasure of your father.'
"'Philip, I never do aught which I should be ashamed of my father witnessing. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, than to see him enter this room; and it is to lead you to him, that brought me here.'
"'He has once forbidden me his presence,' cried I, rising from my seat; 'I shall seek an interview with him no more.'
"'Let me seek it for you.'
"'What good would it answer?'
"Can you ask that question, Mr. Mornington? Remember all you owe to my father's kindness. I do not want to reproach you with benefits which he felt pleasure in conferring. But surely some feeling of gratitude is due from one whom he loved for so many years as a son; whom I am certain he still loves; whom, if he could once see, would be as dear to him as ever.'
"'Could I feel that his anger was just, there is no concession, however great, Miss Moncton, that I would hesitate to make: I love and revere Sir Alexander, but he has taken up idle prejudices against me, and I am too proud—obstinate, if you will—to ask his forgiveness for what I never can look upon as a fault.'
"'One would think, Philip, that you were a Moncton, so hard and obdurate are their hearts,' said Margaret, weeping afresh. 'How gladly would I be the peacemaker, and reconcile you to each other, but you love strife for its own sake—are too proud to acknowledge an error. Philip,' she cried, passionately, 'do you remember my mother?'
"She had struck a chord which always vibrated intensely in my heart. 'How can I ever forget her? And yet, Miss Moncton, dear Miss Moncton, I do not wonder at your asking the question.'
"As I said this tears rushed to my own eyes, as a thousand sad recollections crowded into my mind. The mournful chamber—the bed of death—the calm, sweet face of the expiring saint; and her last solemn injunction, for me to look upon her grave when I came to be a man, and remember her who had loved me as a son. Had I done this? Oh, no! The world had obliterated her pure and holy image from my mind, and all her tenderness and love had been forgotten.
"I stood there before her daughter, whose mind was a perfect transcript of her own, a stricken, self-condemned creature, overcome by emotions which I struggled in vain to repress.
"Margaret perceived the advantage she had gained, and taking my passive hand led me from the room.
"Slowly we paced, up the marble staircase into the drawing-room, where we found Sir Alexander reading at a table. He did not raise his head as we entered; and I could not help remarking the great change which a few years had effected in his appearance. His fine chestnut hair was nearly gray, his cheeks had lost the rich vermilion tint which had always given such lustre to his fine dark eyes, and clear olive complexion. He was much thinner, and his lofty figure had taken a decided stoop between the shoulders. The handsome, generous baronet was but the wreck of what he once had been.
"'Papa,' said Margaret, stepping forward, and laying her small white hand upon his shoulder, 'I have taken the liberty of introducing a very old friend.'
"The baronet raised his eyes. The blood rushed into his pale face, as he replied with great asperity of look and tone, 'Margaret, you have taken an unfair advantage, and abused the confidence I reposed in you; I did not expect this from you.'
"'Dearest father, you have suffered my cousin Theophilus to prejudice you against one whom you once loved—whom my dear mother loved: let him speak for himself.'
"'Well, sir,' said the Baronet, holding out his hand, 'what have you to say in extenuation of your past conduct? You found it convenient, no doubt, to forget an old friend.'
"'My excellent, kind benefactor,' I cried, pressing his hand warmly between my own, 'how can you imagine me guilty of such base ingratitude?'
"'I judge your feelings, young man, by deeds, not by words. It is not for a boyish act of indiscretion I blame you. You thrashed an insolent lad of your own age for insulting you; and in your place I would have done the same. To appease his wounded pride, I demanded of you an apology, as the lad was my guest and near kinsman—no very great sacrifice of pride, one would have thought, to a penniless pensioner on my bounty. This, you audaciously refused, and, without waiting for my anger to cool (for I was not acquainted at the time with the real circumstances of the case) you abandoned your home, and sought protection in the house of my enemy—a man who had thwarted me in every way which lay in his power. His favour you gained by traducing your benefactor and friend; and you now come to me, after the lapse of years, to make a boast of your wealth. Philip Mornington!' he cried, rising from his seat, and drawing himself up to his full height, 'I loved you as a spirited, independent boy: I despise you, as a wealthy, treacherous, vain-glorious man!'
"'Dear papa,' said Margaret, greatly agitated, 'you cannot mean what you say.'
"'I do mean what I say. My words are plain and straightforward; let him refute them if he can.'
"'To such accusations as you have brought against me, Sir Alexander, there can be but one answer: they are false! I will not, however, lessen myself by attempting to vindicate my conduct from such base calumnies, but leave it to time to convince you of your error, and prove my integrity.'
"Without waiting for his reply, I left the room, with a bearing as haughty and inflexible as his own, and flinging myself into the saddle, rode from the Hall. Disgusted with myself for having yielded to the entreaties of my amiable foster-sister, I could not master my indignation sufficiently to call at the Lodge, but pursued my journey to town with a heavy heart.
"From Cornelius and his sister I received the most cordial and affectionate welcome; but my pleasure was greatly damped by the bad state of my friend's health: he looked so thin and consumptive, that I apprehended the worst. This impression gradually wore off; but a few months confirmed my fears. He was to commence his journey to Dover early the next morning; and after passing a delightful evening in company with his aunt and Charlotte, I rose to take leave, as I well knew that my invalid friend retired at an early hour to bed.
"'Do not go to-night, Philip,' said he. 'It is the last we shall spend for a long time together. I wish to have a friendly chat with you in my dressing-room. Charlotte will make one of the party.'
"In a few minutes we were comfortably seated in the snug little room, before a cheerful fire. My friend in his easy-chair, wrapped in his dressing-gown, and my own beautiful Charlotte seated on a gaily-embroidered ottoman at his feet.
"'Here, I feel myself at home,' said Cornelius, taking a hand of each, pressing them warmly between his own. 'How much I dread this journey! how painful it is to part with all we love on earth!'
"'Dearest brother, you will return to us quite strong and well after breathing the warm air of the south,' said Charlotte, who could never be brought to consider her brother in any danger. 'When we meet in the spring, you win laugh at your present fears, and we shall be so happy together.'
"Cornelius smiled faintly. 'I hope it may be so, my sweet Charlotte; to that hope I cling, though I feel it daily becoming more feeble. Nor would I leave England, did I not consider it my duty to embrace every means which may tend to restore me to health and usefulness. But if I should never return, my little Lady Bird, the world will run on as merrily as heretofore. I should only be missed by a few faithful hearts.'
"Poor Charlotte did not answer. Her head sank upon his knee; and I thought I heard the tears, one by one, fall upon her rich silk dress.
"'Do not anticipate grief, my little sister,' said he, laying his hand caressingly upon her drooping head. 'Let us be happy to-night, for we know not what the morrow may bring forth. I wanted to speak to you and Philip upon a subject very near my heart.'
"After a short pause, he continued with a lively, cheerful voice—'You and Philip love one another; nay, do not turn away, Charlotte; there ought to be no shame in confessing a virtuous attachment to a worthy object.'
"Charlotte raised her eyes, moist with tears, and tried to smile; but her head sank back to its resting place, and her blushing face was hidden on his knee.
"'Now I am perfectly satisfied of the warmth and sincerity of your affections, and will do all in my power to bring them to a happy issue; but there are some difficulties in the way which must first be surmounted, before you can hope to realize your wishes. You have wealth, Philip, and moral worth; these ought to be sufficient to satisfy the objections of the most fastidious. But your birth is obscure, and your connexions not such as most old families would wish to incorporate with their own. You will ask me how I came by this knowledge. It does not matter; for these worldly objections have no weight with me. It was, however, told to me by one well acquainted with your history—who, as a guardian to Charlotte, will, I fear, never consent to your marriage.'
"'There are few persons with whom I am sufficiently intimate to obtain this knowledge,' I cried. 'His name—tell me his name.'
"'Robert Moncton—Sir Alexander's cousin and man of business.'
"I felt a cold shudder thrill through me. The hopes lately so gay and buoyant shrunk back faded and blackened to my heart. 'Yet why should I fear this man?' I argued; but I did fear him—like the ghost of the dead Cæsar in the camp of Brutus: he was my evil genius. I turned very faint and asked for a glass of water.
"Charlotte gave it to me with a trembling hand. The brother and sister exchanged glances of surprise; suspicion was aroused by my emotion.
"'Strange!' said Charlotte, musingly: 'he was always kind to my brother and me. What have you to say against him?'
"'Not much; but I have a secret antipathy, a horror of this man, though I never saw him but once, and that when quite a boy. I had a quarrel with his son when a lad, which produced a rupture between Sir Alexander and me, and neither father nor son ever forgave the imagined injury.'
"Charlotte looked thoughtful. It was evident that she was fond of her guardian; while Cornelius continued the conversation, which was to me both painful and embarrassing.
"I know Mr. Moncton to be implacable when he takes a dislike, and considers himself ill-used, but we always have regarded him as a just and honest man. The circumstances at which you have hinted, and which I am rather surprised, that with all our brotherly intercourse, you never mentioned before, will not increase your chance of success in gaining him over to your wishes. But if I live, Philip, you will have little to fear from his opposition. Charlotte and myself are both above the common prejudices of the world, and prize you for your worth, which we consider more than places you on an equality with us, and my little sister here (and he fondly patted her head) has too high a sense of honour to encourage hopes which she never meant to realize.'
"I took Charlotte's hand—our eyes met. Her face was again hidden on her brother's knee; but my drooping heart began to revive, and I turned to listen to the long harangue of my good friend with more interest and attention, especially, as Charlotte's small white hand remained firmly clasped in mine, to repay me for its dullness and prolixity.
"Now, my advice to you both is, not to enter into any engagement, and to keep the matter of your affections known only to yourselves. Confidence reposed in a third party is always hazardous, and generally betrayed. This will lull Moncton's suspicions, for he can greatly annoy you, should you marry Charlotte without his consent, before her minority expires. Her property, which is considerable, would then go to a distant relation.'
"'I have enough to support us both handsomely—why should our union be delayed on that score?' I cried.
"'Softly, my dear friend. Lovers always talk in that strain—husbands think differently. Why should Charlotte lose her just inheritance to gratify the ardour of your passion? You are both young: Charlotte far too young to marry. Four years is not such a great while to wait. At the expiration of that time you can meet on equal terms, without making such an enormous sacrifice. Am I not right?'
"We said he was, and tried to think so; but I am certain that in the estimation of both his listeners, that that four years which seemed to him so short, with us spread over a period as long as the life of Methusalah. We tried to look forward, but shrunk back to the present. Everything in prospective looked cold, blank—nay, even ugly and old, at the end of the long vista of four years.
"We promised, however, to abide by his advice. I was sad and low-spirited; and Charlotte, pleading a bad head-ache, kissed her brother, received one from me, or, what inhisestimation, only passed forone, and retired in tears, and I felt that the joy of my heart had vanished.
"'Do not look so grave, Philip,' said my worthy friend: 'you will overcome all these difficulties.'
"I shook my head, and sighed doubtfully.
"'I am sure you will. I have a presentiment to that effect. I saw you in a dream last night, surrounded by a thousand dangers. As fast as you got out of some trouble, you fell into a worse, and after I had given you up for lost, you were rescued from the fangs of a tiger by a mere lad, who led you back to Charlotte, and joined your hands.'
"He told this with such earnestness, that I, who was no believer in signs and omens, laughed outright.
"He looked serious—almost offended.
"'You forget,' he said, 'that when man draws near his end, God often opens the eyes of the soul, and reveals not only what is, but what shall be. Oh, Philip, you who are so eager to win the affections of a timid girl, how can you be so indifferent to the love of God?'
"'Nervous debility has rendered you superstitious, Cornelius. I have no faith in the religious cant of the present day, in priests or priestcraft.'
"This was my case two years ago. I was young and strong then. In the possession of wealth and all those temporal blessings, for which wiser and better men have to toil through a long life, and seldom obtain. The world was before me, and death far distant, in my thoughts. But now, the world is receding, and death is very near. You start! Have not you discovered that truth before? Soon, very soon, nothing will remain for me, but that blessed hope which I now prize as the only true riches. I am happy in the prospect which I know awaits me, and consider those only miserable to whom God is a stranger, and the love of the Saviour unknown.'
"His words affected me strangely, and yet I felt that they were distasteful. Sorrow had not taught me the knowledge of self. I had yet to learn that religion alone can do that. My soul was grovelling in the dust; my thoughts wholly engrossed by the world. Religion was to me a well-invented fable, skillfully constructed, and admirably told, being beautiful and artistic in a literary point of view, but altogether too shallow to satisfy the reason of a clever fellow like me. Oh! how repugnant are its pure precepts to those whose hearts are blinded by vanity; who live but for the pleasures of the day, and never heed the to-morrow in the skies.
"I sat down at a table near my friend, and began hastily to turn over the pages of a volume which lay before me. It contained the admirable writings of the Rev. Robert Hall. I pettishly closed the book, and pushed it from me.
"As I raised my head, our eyes met. He evidently read my thoughts.
"'I do not wish to lecture you, Philip, nor do I condemn you. Your mind, in its present unawakened state, cannot understand the sublime truths you affect to despise. The blind see not; they cannot comprehend the light, and we are not surprised that they stumble and fall. But I love you too well, Philip, to wish you to remain in this state of mental darkness. Read the Bible with the eyes of faith; think and pray, and the true light will dawn upon your soul, as it has on mine. Let not the ravings of fanaticism, nor the vulgarity of low cant, frighten you from the enjoyment of the highest and noblest privilege granted to man—the capacity of holding converse with his God. And, now, farewell, my dear friend. I shall see you again in the morning; think over twice what I have said to you before you go to sleep.'
"I retired to my chamber, but not to rest. I sat before the fire, musing over, and trying to feel an interest in, the advice of my friend; I knew it was good; I felt it was right and very natural, for Cornelius, in his diseased state, to regard it as a subject of vital importance, to cherish it as the last hope which could beguile his mind, and reconcile him, to the awful and mysterious change which awaited him. 'Poor Cornelius,' said I, 'dying men catch at straws! Will your straw float you safely across the waves of the dark river? I fear not.' And in this mood I went to bed, dreamt of Charlotte, and awoke in the morning to regret the long years which must intervene before she could be mine."