"Till fast declining one by one, The sweetnesses of love were gone, And eyes forgot the gentle ray They wore in courtship's sunny day, And voices lost the tones that shed A tenderness round all they said, And hearts so lately mingled seemed Like broken clouds, or like the stream That smiling left the mountain's brow As though the waters ne'er could sever, Yet ere it reach the plain below Breaks into floods that part for ever."
Nor could Mary, though Mrs. de Burgh's extreme kindness to herself made her easily incline to indulgence and partiality, at all times bring herself to approve or enter into her feelings or course of conduct, or be led quite to do, and think as it pleased her beautiful cousin.
One instance of the kind it may be necessary that we should record, both as in it our heroine was more personally concerned, and as forming a more regular link in the chain of our story.
CHAPTER X.
Lo! where the paling cheek, the unconscious sigh, The slower footstep, and the heavier eye, Betray the burthen of sweet thoughts and mute, The slight tree bows beneath the golden fruit.
THE NEW TIMON.
It was a beautiful afternoon, in the first week of August, and the two ladies set off as usual for their afternoon's drive, the little Louisa seated between them. Mr. de Burgh had been on the steps to see the party start, himself lifting the child with his usual tenderness into the carriage--and wishing them a pleasant drive, he casually inquired in what direction they meant to go.
"To Morland, I think," answered Mrs. de Burgh carelessly, as she gathered up the reins, and arranged herself upon her seat.
"To Morland," he repeated.
"Yes! have you any objection?"
"Oh, none whatever!"
"Well, good bye!" and with a light touch of the whip, the pretty ponies were put in motion.
Ere they had proceeded far through the park Mrs. de Burgh said, laughing:
"I told him we were going to Morland, but that is not at all my intention. You need not say anything about it, but I have made up my mind to drive you to Montrevor. Really I ought to go and see old Uncle Trevor after his illness; at any rate, I must speak to Eugene, and make personal inquiries."
"But why tell Louis that you were going to Morland? Oh, Olivia! do not drive there to-day," Mary exclaimed in some consternation.
"Why not," inquired Mrs. de Burgh, looking at her companion in surprise: "you really do not mean to say that I ought to submit to the absurd objection Louis expressed the other night upon the subject?"
Mary could not say with sincerity, that this--or even the unnecessary deceit which her companion intended to put upon her husband--however this might have offended her conscience, was the chief cause which now rendered the proposed excursion so repugnant to her feelings; there was another, of a nature she could not exactly explain; but which nevertheless influenced them greatly on this occasion.
The fact was, upon poor Mary's heart by this time had been worked an impression far from being of a light or imaginative nature.
The constant visits of the dark-eyed cousin of Mrs. de Burgh, had conjured up feelings as far removed from the dream-like fancy of other days, as is the shadow from the substance, and the very fact of the existence of such feelings made her painfully susceptible to any proceeding which might, in the slightest degree, even on the part of others, make her appear desirous of courting the society of the object who had awakened them--and of whose corresponding sentiments towards herself, she had as yet no certain guarantee.
Mary could not but suspect that this excursion to Montrevor would be only made by Mrs. de Burgh on her account, and that this might be made to appear to Eugene Trevor by his cousin; therefore, when Mrs. de Burgh only laughed at her evident disinclination, she, on the impulse of the feelings with which the idea inspired her, begged that at any rate, if her cousin were really bent upon the plan, that she would suffer her to remain behind. Whereupon Mrs. de Burgh, somewhat coldly drawing in the reins, begged Mary would do as she pleased; if she really had so great an objection to going to Montrevor--perhaps she would not mind returning, as she had a particular wish to go and inquire after her uncle.
Mrs. de Burgh indeed offered to drive her back, but Mary said, she would really like the walk, and accordingly was suffered silently to alight, feeling perhaps a little inclined to doubt, whether she had not gone rather too far in thus decidedly carrying out her own way, yet not liking to give in after she had so strongly expressed her disinclination.
Mrs. de Burgh wished her a pleasant walk, and little Louisa knelt upon the seat and kissed her hand regretfully to her retreating cousin as they went their several ways.
Mary walked slowly, and rather dejectedly back towards the house, knowing that her cousin Louis, with whom she would fain have avoided the necessity of giving the reason of her return, had been on the point of setting off towards a distant part of the grounds when they had left him.
Just as she arrived in sight of the mansion, the sound of a horse's feet met her ear, the next moment a horseman riding up a different approach to that by which she came, appeared in sight. It was Eugene Trevor. He immediately perceived her, and dismounting threw his bridle to a servant standing on the step, and hurried forward to meet her.
Mary was so totally unprepared for a _rencontre_, which circumstances rendered at that moment peculiarly embarrassing to her feelings, that she received Trevor with a coldness and constraint unusual to her manner; and when he mentioned the fear he had entertained of finding them out, she merely answered, that Olivia had gone for a drive, but that Louis was in the grounds, and proposed walking on to find him.
Eugene did not object, so they proceeded in the requisite direction.
Then he told her that he had come to say good-bye. A friend of his had engaged a moor in Scotland in partnership with himself, and that he was therefore obliged to set off in a day or two, not much to his gratification--for there were many things which made him regret to leave the neighbourhood just then, and he should be away, he supposed, about a month.
Mary was dismayed to feel how her heart sank low at this communication; she, however, made an effort to rally her spirits; and the subject thus started, she discussed the delights and merits of the grouse-shooting and moorland country, with a careless interest which made her inwardly wonder over her new-found powers of duplicity.
But they fell in with Mr. de Burgh sooner than she had expected, or Eugene, perhaps, had hoped; for in spite of any change which he might have discerned in his companion's manner, his lingering step and earnest attention plainly demonstrated, that the charm he ever seemed to find in her society was not decreased.
Mr. de Burgh was evidently surprised at Mary's re-appearance, but supposing it was a whim of his wife's to put an end to the intended drive, on account of Eugene Trevor's visit, and that she too had returned to the house, he made no further remark upon the subject than his first exclamation, "What come back already?"
On hearing of Eugene Trevor's intended excursion, he entered into conversation with him on the subject. Then he called Eugene's attention to those alterations he was superintending, into which the former entered with all due interest and understanding; and his attention thus engaged, it was not for some time that he was at liberty to turn to Mary, who stood by in the meantime silent and abstracted.
He did not remain much longer; he was obliged to return home to meet a friend, and therefore took leave of Mr. de Burgh and finally of Mary, lingering a little as if he half hoped to have had a companion in his walk back towards the house; but finding this was not to be the case, he went off regretfully alone.
Mr. de Burgh asked Mary if she felt inclined to extend her walk to a further part of the estate. She acceded cheerfully to the proposal, for she fancied her cousin's eye had glanced somewhat anxiously upon her countenance as they stood silently together after Eugene's departure.
And so they proceeded, making a lengthened circuit which did not bring them back to the house till a later hour than they had supposed, and Mrs. de Burgh had by that, time returned.
Mary went immediately to her cousin's dressing-room, anxious to do away with any offended feeling her conduct might have excited. She found Mrs.
de Burgh quite amicably disposed. She began immediately to rally Mary on the very clever manner in which she had managed her morning's amusement; she had seen Eugene Trevor, who had told her of the delightful walk they had taken together.
"The fact is," Mrs. de Burgh continued, "I did not go to Montrevor after all. It was too far to go all alone--and returning I met Eugene, and we had a long chat."
"He told you, I suppose," said Mary, "that he was going away."
"Yes, for a month--what shall we do without him in the meantime? By the bye, I told him, Mary, of _your_ conduct this afternoon."
"My conduct?" asked Mary in alarm.
"Yes, your insurmountable objection to a drive to Montrevor."
"Oh, Olivia!" in a tone of reproach.
"Yes, I did, indeed; and do you know what he said to this?"
"No, indeed," Mary anxiously replied.
"He laughed quite scornfully and said: 'She shall go there some day,'
then spurred his horse and rode off at full speed. Ha! ha!
"'He laughs and he rides away.'
Nay, Mary do not look offended. He did not intend anything _very_ insulting I dare say. Go dear, and rest yourself after this long walk Louis has dragged you, and which has made you look so pale."