Olivia

“ Indeed, the world over, lovers promise each other infinite things, and are infinitely believed.
"I do understand you, Prince Tabnit," Olivia said simply, "I do understand something of what you offer me. I think that these things were not meant to be hidden from men always, so I can even believe that you have all that you say. But—there is something more."
Olivia paused—and swiftly, as if some little listening spirit had released the picture from the air, came the memory of that night when she had stood with St. George on that airy rampart beside the wall of blossoming vines. ”

“ Here we see Love born of Envy, nursed by Ennui, and dandled in turn by all the Vices.
And this Lady Olivia fancies that she is a perfect Frenchwoman! There is nothing we Parisians abhor and ridicule so much as these foreign, and always awkward, caricatures of our manners. With us there are many who, according to a delicate distinction, lose their virtue without losing their taste for virtue; but I flatter myself there are few who resemble Olivia entirely—who have neither the virtues of a man nor of a woman. One cannot even say that "her head is the dupe of her heart," since she has no heart. ”

“ Haven’t you always been able to do anything you liked with anybody? And Olivia—oh, I could see to-night that she thought more of you than any one else.”
The pale face seemed to grow hard and set as if with some hidden struggle, some suppressed pain.
“That is enough of this nonsense,” he said. “Love works madness in some men’s brains. It has worked madness in yours. I am no more to Olivia”—he stopped, and swept his hand across his brow, with a gesture of annoyance—“I mean Miss Vanley, than the beggar at her gates.”
Bertie rose, pale, too, and with an expression of disappointment. ”

“ Nor does it much matter whether her passion were the motive or the consequence of her disguise, since in either case such a man as Olivia describes him to be might well find his way to tougher hearts than Viola's. But her love has none of the skittishness and unrest which mark the Duke's passion for Olivia: complicated out of all the elements of her being, it is strong without violence; never mars the innate modesty of her character; is deep as life, tender as infancy, pure, peaceful, and unchangeable as truth. ”

“ Miss Vanley—Olivia—you can’t guess how I love you,” and he moistened his dry lips.
“You love me?” said Olivia, as if to herself.
“Yes,” he responded. “Is there anything strange in that? Why shouldn’t I love you? All—all the men I know, all the men who know you, do, and why shouldn’t I? I’m not made of wood or stone. I do love you!” ”

“ Olivia understood, and she believed. The mystery of life had always been more real to her than its commonplaces, and all her years she had gone half-expecting to meet some one, unheralded, to whom all things would be clear, and who should make her know by some secret sign that this was so, and should share with her. She had no doubt whatever that Prince Tabnit spoke the truth—just as the daughter of the river-god Inachus knew perfectly that she was being wooed by a voice from the air. ”

“ Considering that in spite of everything he was still eager to give Olivia the shelter of his name and the advantages of his position, his insistence on doing more fell short of the grotesque.
Nevertheless he had insisted on it, and it was too late to shrink from making good his offer. No doubt, if he did so shrink, Olivia would commend him; but it would be a commendation not inconsistent with a fall in her esteem. His nerves still tingled with the joy of hearing her say, as she had said yesterday: "You're the noblest man in the world; I never dreamed there could be any one like you." ”

“ Contrasted with the deep, silent, patient love of Viola for the Duke, we have the lady-like wilfulness of Olivia; and her sudden passion, or rather fancy, for the disguised page, takes so beautiful a coloring of poetry and sentiment, that we do not think her forward. Olivia is like a princess of romance, and has all the privileges of one; she is, like Portia, high born and high bred, mistress over her servants—but not like Portia, "queen o'er herself." She has never in her life been opposed ”

“ Olivia bade me run after her and hold her fast, so that she should not get into the house and make a noise; while she herself wished to go and see how it was with her father. On the way Olivia met the servant-boy, who was in love with the maid: I had in the meantime hurried after the maid, and held her fast. "Only think! what good luck!" cried Olivia: "it's all over with Barbara, and George marries Liese." "That I have thought for a long while," said the good fellow, and remained standing in an ill humour. ”

“ Any attempt to describe the varied emotions which swept through Olivia’s sensitive heart would be impossible.
The spell of his voice was on her still; the fascination of his dark, handsome face still held her in thrall.
Women admire men for many qualities; their strength, their good looks, their courage, their art, sometimes—but not often, alas!—their wisdom. ”

“ Little dreaming of the scene that was being enacted by Olivia and Bartley Bradstone, Bertie started on his way home. He meant to walk to Carfield, and to think of Olivia every inch of the way. He had always loved her as a boy, and when they were playmates; but now he found his love of that absorbing kind which masters a man’s whole being and dominates his life. ”

“ In the height of these effusions, when the divine man was torturing his lungs to be heard by the increasing croud, he on his stool, I seated uncapped in a cart by his side, who should I see approach, in a phæton and pair, but Hector Mowbray? And by his side—! Yes!—Olivia! The beauteous Olivia! no longer a child, but tall, straight, perfectly formed; every limb in the most captivating symmetry, every feature in the full bloom of youth; intelligence in every look, grace in every motion, sweetness in every smile! ”

“ She was veiled; but the elastic step, the girlish grace, the poise and youthful dignity were not to be mistaken. The room whirled round St. George, and then closed in about him and grew dark. For this was the woman advancing to her betrothal; from the manner of her entrance there could be no doubt of that. And it was none of the daughters of the twenty peers. It was Olivia.
She wore a trailing gown of rainbow hues, more like the hues of water than of texture, and the warm light fell upon these as she descended and variously multiplied them to beauty. ”

“ The announcement of Olivia’s approaching marriage caused almost as much excitement as the news of her engagement.
She had insisted upon the ceremony being as quiet a one as possible, and, for a wonder, Bartley Bradstone assented.
At least a score of young ladies were desirous of acting as bridesmaids upon so famous an occasion, but Olivia desired to limit the number to two, and chose Annie and Mary, much to their delight and Aunt Amelia’s chagrin.
“My dear Olivia,” she remonstrated in her most dignified manner. “Only two bridesmaids! Why, the veriest pauper has three or four! ”

“ What do you mean?
OLIVIA. I mean that the whole question, as I heard somebody say once, demands much more anxious thought than either of us has given it. These hasty marriages—
GEORGE. Hasty!
OLIVIA. Well, you've only just proposed to me, and you want to marry me to-morrow.
GEORGE. Now you're talking perfect nonsense, Olivia. You know quite well that our case is utterly different from—from any other.
OLIVIA. All the same, one has to ask oneself questions. With a young girl like—well, with a young girl, love may well seem to be all that matters. But with a woman of my age, it is different. ”

“ But even to exculpate herself, Olivia will not ruin in your opinion her husband, of whom you imagine that she has no reason to complain. I, who know how anxious she is to obtain your esteem, can appreciate the sacrifice that she makes; and in this instance, as in many others, I admire her magnanimity; it is equal to her candour, for which she is entitled to praise even by your own principles, dear mother: since, far from having thrown off all restraint, she is exquisitely susceptible of shame.
As to her understanding—have no persons of great talents ever been unfortunate? ”

“ Olivia was sitting on a low chair beside the open window, a book lying on her lap, page downward, her eyes fixed on the tall elms that lined the drive. For a second a warm flush rose to her face, but for a second only, and her gaze did not falter.
“I shouldn’t think it could be true,” replied the squire, dryly, “seeing that it is impossible.”
“There are no lions in Australia, unfortunately, Miss Vanley,” explained Bartley Bradstone, as he carried the cup of tea to Olivia.
“No? Really? How interesting! You are always so well informed, Bartley. ”

“ When Viola asked to see her face, Olivia said: 'Have you any commission from your lord and master to negotiate with my face?' And then, forgetting her determination to go veiled for seven long years, she drew aside her veil, saying: 'But I will draw the curtain and show the picture. Is it not well done?' Viola replied: 'It is beauty truly mixed; the red and white upon your cheeks is by Nature's own cunning hand laid on. You are the most cruel lady living, if you will lead these graces to the grave, and leave the world no copy.' 'O, sir,' replied Olivia, 'I will not be so cruel. ”

“ Such, then, was Olivia's new home, which, if it offered nothing that was not in unison with her gentle disposition, yet was not of a sort to develop the warmer feelings of her nature. Her life had been so far a happy one; she had never known disappointment or sorrow, and so it continued to be; but it was a life of chastened affection and without sentiment; and at an age when most English girls in India are wives and mothers, the great romance of life had not even yet presented itself. ”

“ All thought, all remembrance of Bartley Bradstone, of her father’s impending ruin, had passed from her. She was living, absorbed, in this, the one, the great moment, of her existence.
“If a life’s devotion can insure your happiness, I can pledge it. I do so. Of all else I say nothing. You know something of him already; I think, I know you can trust him. What will you say to me, Olivia?” The name slipped from him unawares. “What answer shall I get? Will you trust yourself to the man who loves you with all his heart and soul? ”

“ Olivia went up to her father, and kissed him with the tenderness which seemed to have deepened since her sacrifice, and, with his arm round her waist, they were leading the way to breakfast, when a footman in the Bradstone livery rode up, and, touching his hat, delivered a box to Olivia. ”

“ Sharply she looked at Olivia. “It didn’t affect you that way, did it? You don’t ever drift away and feel yourself growing dimmer and dimmer, do you? It’s odd. Perhaps it’s different with your husband.”
Olivia saw that the old woman was having one of those isolated moments of clarity and reason which were more horrible than her insanity because for a time she made you see that, after all, she was like yourself, human and capable of thought. To Olivia these moments were almost as if she witnessed the rising of the dead. ”

“ Olivia ran lightly up the stairs. I heard the swift rustle of her gown as she moved from room to room; and suddenly she was upon the stairs again looking down at me, with her hand like a flake of snow upon the bannister. She gleamed against the background of dark wood, a thing of silver.
"There is no one in the house," she said simply, in a strange and quiet voice. She moved down the stairs and held out her hand to me. ”

“ He went to the Grange every day, and nearly every day he and Olivia rode or drove out together, accompanied by Aunt Amelia or one or sometimes both of the Penstone girls, and though Olivia was always cheerful and pleasant with him, it was a cold kind of cheerfulness, a forced sort of pleasantness. The paleness which Mary had remarked had not disappeared, and there had come into the dark eyes a far-away look, which might represent the quiet joy of an engaged girl, but was rather sad and unsatisfactory for the man who loved her. ”

“ Avec Olivia vous m'avez donné bonheur et peine. Bonheur par votre art qui est noble et sincère—peine car je sens tristesse au coeur de voir une belle et généreuse nature de femme, donner son âme à l'art—comme vous le faites—quand c'est la vie même, votre coeur même, qui parle tendrement, douleureusement, noblement sous votre jeu. ”

“ And to-night, under the moonlight, Olivia was full of admiration for this man whom the gods had dowered with so many gifts. He had proved his courage in risking his life for Bessie, his face was handsome [Pg 85] enough to haunt the dreams of a sculptor, and to-night he had exercised a power of imagination and voice and influence that had moved a crowded audience.
Think of it! An impressionable girl, full of poetry, and ready as wax to receive an impression, and wonder not that as she walked beside him she felt magnetized, attracted, fascinated. ”

“ Olivia sat between her host and Colonel Onslow, Lady Aintree opposite, and next her, Captain Wedderburn. For the first time in her married life Olivia suffered vague disquiet as to her husband’s antecedents. The rugged-faced, bright-eyed man on the other side of the table seemed to hold the key to a phase of his life which she had never heard. ”

“ OLIVIA. Yours, George? Your life isn't wrecked. The Court will absolve you of all blame; your friends will sympathise with you, and tell you that I was a designing woman who deliberately took you in; your Aunt Julia——
GEORGE (overwrought) . Stop it! What do you mean? Have you no heart? Do you think I want to lose you, Olivia? Do you think I want my home broken up like this? ”

“ The distance of rank which separates the Countess from the youthful page—the real sex of Viola—the dignified elegance of Olivia's deportment, except where passion gets the better of her pride—her consistent coldness towards the Duke—the description of that "smooth, discreet, and stable bearing" with which she rules her household—her generous care for her steward Malvolio, in the midst of her own distress,—all these circumstances raise Olivia in our fancy, and render her caprice for the page a source of amusement and interest, not a subject of reproach. ”