Mrs. Grey

“ Eugene exclaimed, again appeased, "of every one, even your own sister; but I shall be thankful indeed to have no further excuse for the indulgence of that feeling. Oh! Mary, I have often cruel misgivings respecting you."
"Respecting me, Eugene?"
"Yes, lest by any means you should during our separation be induced to love, nay, even the idea that you should be loved by any one save myself, is almost to me as repugnant."
"What can you mean, Eugene?" turning her eyes upon him, with doubting surprise; "I love any one, you cannot be in earnest—as to any one loving me." ”

“ Have your dreams carried you thus far, or do you go into the world, with—at least on this one point, your heart and feelings, I should rather say—your fancy, disengaged?"
He did not speak as if in mockery and disdain to a weak and romantic girl, but with the serious delicate kindness of one whose very skill and knowledge in diving amongst the fantastic images of the human heart, is all the less moved to scorn or derision at the conception of its hidden enormities.
Mary Seaham started. The crimson blood suffused her pure pale cheek. ”

“ What fervent gratitude—what deep, strong affection did every tear she shed, every sigh she breathed in his cause, fan into life, water into vigour in that young pupil's breast! How was she adored, revered, upheld supreme at least in the heart of one being in the world.
Eustace Trevor, as those of generous and superior natures generally are found to be, was a child of naturally impetuous disposition and independent spirit. Though full of genius, and promise of bright things to come, it could not be but that he sometimes grieved his gentle teacher, and gave her patient spirit pain. ”

“ Have a far deeper madness, and the glance
Of melancholy is a fearful gift.
What is it but the telescope of truth,
Which brings life near in utter nakedness,
Making the cold reality more cold,'"
quoted Mr. de Burgh for all reply.
"What is all this to do with the point in question?" said Mrs. de Burgh impatiently. "Really, Louis, Mary will think you also decidedly have gone mad."
"Mary likes poetry," he answered quietly; "she will not think it is madness what I have uttered."
"But, Louis, what do you really mean about Eugene's brother?—tell me something about him. ”

“ Scared and dismayed at the prospect opened, like some dark gulf so suddenly before her eyes, Mrs. Trevor yielded nevertheless, not without an effort, to the fate into which she had been betrayed. She had that within her, a degree of sense and spirit, which moved her in her early marriage days to use the gentle influence she hoped in some degree to have obtained over her husband's affections; to effect some change in the general system of affairs she saw daily growing up around her, as well as to assert and maintain her own gentle dignity and comparative independence as a woman and a wife. ”

“ But how wonderful it was to Mary, that those two beings, whom nature, as well as fortune, seemed to have crowned with every blessing their bounty can bestow to make this world a paradise—health, beauty, talents, on the one hand; wealth, station, princely possessions on the other—should awaken in her mind feelings of pain and compassion, rather than envy or admiration—as apparently lacking in so lamentable a degree, that first great ingredient in the cup of life—love. ”

“ It is not all at once, without a struggle, and one backward longing look, that we can resign ourselves to the certainty that the hope and trust on which we had flung our all, has proved a lie. There were two letters yet to come ere she could let the black curtain fall over the past for ever.
Alone too, with a dreamy impression stealing over her, that whatever her brother's affection might maintain, this loneliness was a foretaste of her future life. And then the bitter sigh and yearning void, as the thought flew back to visions all too brightly wrought, now for ever flown. ”

“ She advised him to go and try the world, to look upon its pride, its ambition, and its pleasure. He went. Courted, flattered, and admired, all these allurements beckoned him away. The world smiled upon the eldest son, and not only the world; he in whose heart of hearts hatred and envy were darkly smouldering against one whom fortune had at once so unexpectedly favoured, and raised above himself—he also in that smiling world spoke him fair, and walked with him as friend—and this was his brother.
How was it then that Eustace Trevor finally returned to his original intention? ”

“ She could not tell what attraction there often is in the simple-minded, guileless nature of a youthful being like herself, to the man plunged in the cares and passions of maturer years, and though Eugene Trevor, at that time was young—not more than five and twenty—a more experienced eye than Mary's might have discerned, that stamped upon his countenance, which told him to be, even then, no stranger to those dark storms of passion, or of secret sin which, sweeping over man's breast, blight before its time the freshness, health, and purity of youth. ”

“ In short, I declare to you, that the power of making me quite happy lies in your own hands—far more than in any careless-hearted beauty whom I might in a foolish moment take it into my head to ask to be my wife—and find, after all, that she did not care a straw for me. Therefore, dear Mary, only be persuaded to give up this, as I am sure you must begin to feel it, most equivocal and inauspicious engagement, and let us try if we cannot be happy together, in time perhaps—as happy as if no such cloud had ever arisen—and who knows what more propitious fate may not still be in store for you? ”

“ Yet far was Eustace Trevor from being naturally prone to coldness and insensibility on a point like this; he was one
"To gaze on woman's beauty as a star,
Whose purity and distance make it fair."
And fair indeed did it seem to him, when on his night of darkness it shone forth with so bright and clear a light as in the daughters of Glan Pennant. But that light to him must be indeed far distant, for the morbid sensibility with which he contemplated the dark features of his past history, cast its blasting influence even over this purest and most natural point of his heart's ambition ”

“ Mary replied, with a low sigh, which marked perhaps the spell of musical enchantment to have been broken by the question, or it may be—the moment when some other power first fell upon her spirit.
"Though who can tell
What time the angel passed who left the spell?"
"Very fond indeed," she continued; "but who is there that is not fond of music?"
"That man for one," answered Mrs. de Burgh, turning quickly round, and denoting by her glance "that man" to be Eugene Trevor. "He is not, I can assure you; he cannot distinguish one note from another—a nightingale's from a jackdaw's. ”

“ He had passed his arm with a kind of reckless excitement round her waist, and now held her tightly towards him, so that her heart beat wildly against his own, though she shrank trembling from the close embrace, and still he repeated, with a voice which sounded to her ear more like hatred than affection:
"Say—promise me, you will marry me in a week, Mary, publicly or in secret, as you will; you are your own mistress, no one can prevent you. Speak, say that one word, Mary, and you shall hear everything as truly as if I stood before the judgment-seat of God." ”

“ But as it was, Mary Seaham now with downcast eyes and faltering tongue, gave answer when to answer she was able, in such sort as might have suited more an ashamed and humble penitent, confessing to a superior being a sin or an infirmity, than a woman free to choose or to reject, yielding her gentle death blow to a trembling lover's hopes.
"Mr. Temple, how humbling to my feelings is the opinion you must have so flatteringly formed of me, ere you could have addressed me thus; an opinion, alas! how little accordant with reality. ”

“ This was what she heard; and if there had been any doubt on Mary's mind, as to whether these words bore reference to herself, the confused and disconcerted countenances of both Mr. and Mrs. de Burgh, when they became aware of her presence, too fully assured her on that point; and advancing, pale and trembling, towards her cousins, she at once faltered forth:
"Louis—Olivia! have you heard anything of Eugene? Is he ill? or what has happened?" and then she burst into tears.
"No, no, dear Mary, there is nothing the matter with Trevor—he is quite well." ”

“ Mrs. de Burgh lay back upon her sofa, and was silent. She felt herself getting into deeper waters than she had power or ability to struggle with. She had been persuaded to use all her rhetoric, into arguing a serious but gentle-minded girl into marrying a man, towards whom time and experience had much shaken her estimation.
To sift so particularly a matter, the wrongs and rights of which she had, like the world in general, been contented to take for so many years on credit, she was not prepared; and Mary's rebuke chafed her spirit, and changed in a manner the current of her thoughts. ”

“ But no; firmly he remained within the doorway, effectually frustrating any such endeavour. Mabel Marryott looked at him with an air of affected surprise, her cool, unabashed demeanour perfectly restored.
"Mr. Eustace," she said, and there was an insolent tinge of patronising pity in her tone; "will you allow me, Sir?"
"No; I will not," was the reply which burst forth in accents, which, if there were aught of human in her mould, must have shook her very soul to its centre; "you are not wanted here; you have done enough—you have helped to kill her; what can you desire more? ”

“ Yes, blind! Blind as the aged patriarch of old. Jacob is blessed: the blessing and the birthright is taken from the rightful claimant. "I have blessed him, yea, and he shall be blessed."
Mary has not yet spoken, but there is a silence more expressive than words—and expressive, as that which had followed Mr. Temple's declaration and so coldly fallen upon his trembling hopes, was, to Eugene Trevor, the silence which now hung upon her tongue. That blushing face, those tearful eyes, those smiling lips, spoke all that he desired to hear. ”

“ An instant's pause—then, in a tone in which, though calm, there was something unnatural and strange in the sound, there came the laconic reply—"I did."
And then there was a solemn pause. For what could Eustace Trevor add—how reply to the mute but eager questioning of those eyes, now fixed intently upon him, as if in the verdict of his lips there lay more power to ease the heart of its blind fears and nameless misgivings—more in one calm word of his
"Than all the world's defied rebuke." ”

“ He paused, and glanced significantly from his coffers to his son, from his son to his coffers.
"Harry will be a lucky fellow," murmured Eugene, averting his countenance, over which, at those words, a brightening gleam had passed.
"Pooh, that fool!"
"That fool, Sir, is your eldest son for all that," laughed the other.
"And if he is, what's that? it's my own, all that.... Besides," lowering his voice, "mark me, he'll break his neck some of these days."
"Not he, Harry's too good a rider for that; and you know a fool is sure to live for ever; but even if he died, there's Eustace." ”

“ We grow wiser or harder as we pass farther through the world, and learn to look upon it no longer as one large home of loving hearts, such as some may have accounted it; but a stage on which every man is too intent to play his own individual part, to have much respect for these minor charities of social life—the word, the look of kindness, of affection which to the sensitive and unworldly spirit are often of higher price—contribute more to make up the sum of mortal happiness, than the most generous deed, or striking act of beneficence. ”

“ There has been much of dark and terrible in the past, but let us pray that the future may atone. Yes, you have returned, and all may still be right."
"You think so," he replied gently, but still most mournfully; then averting his face, added in low and sterner accents of interrogation: "and my brother?"
"He has been ill," was Mary's low reply, "suffering, it is to be feared, as much from mental anxiety as from physical pain. Oh, Mr. Trevor, your coming to him indeed must prove a relief—a relief from the worst of sufferings—suspense."
"What has he to fear?" demanded Eustace Trevor. ”

“ Mary continued, with a voice tremulous with feeling; "and now, at least you must confess that his affection for me is most true, most purely disinterested; that he loves me for myself alone; or how else would he wish to marry one who possesses neither beauty, talents, or fortune."
"By the bye," rejoined Mr. de Burgh, as if the subject had been but suddenly suggested to his mind by Mary's latter words, "I suppose you are aware to what circumstances Eugene is indebted for the position he now, to all appearance, holds as his father's heir?" ”

“ Alas! she knew not the nature of the being with whom she had to cope; it was but as the falcon-hunted dove, fluttering within the fowler's snare, or beneath the vulture's claw, the cords are but the tighter drawn—the grasp more crushingly extended, till the victim feeling his impotence to resist, resigns itself powerless to its fate. Mrs. Trevor struggled no more. All thought of influence was at an end, except indeed that which her gentle virtues, her submissive tears, like the droppings of water upon a stone, might in time be permitted to effect. ”

“ Mary's wandering, startled gaze turned inquiringly on Mrs. de Burgh, as if to ask whether this new and melancholy representation of the case could be really true. Mrs. de Burgh looked a little disconcerted, but replied carelessly:
"Yes, poor Aunt Trevor! she had certainly a sad time of it; but then it was partly her own fault. She was a weak-spirited creature. What other woman would have endured what she did in that tame and passive manner?"
"Yes, these poor weak-spirited creatures have often, however, strength to bear a great deal for the sake of others," replied Mr. de Burgh, sarcastically. ”

“ Perhaps never, Eugene Trevor; for there are minds, in which—like the fruits and flowers of foreign climes, matured by the sunshine of an hour—passions, tastes, principles, incompatible with youth and purity and openness of heart, have either, by nature or the foreign sun of circumstances, struck their roots and flourished in the very morning of their possessors' lives, and thus, their very youth has been like age. ”