by Moyle Sherer
CHAP. XIV.
O how full of briars is this working-day world! _As you Like it._
As soon as the affectionate Jane had entirely recovered herself-possession, she left her chamber, and repaired to Katharine. Itwas the dark evening hour of autumn, and there was no light in theroom of the invalid but that emitted from the glowing embers on thehearth. Jane seated herself by the bedside, and, taking the hand ofKatharine, gently pressed it, and said,--
"My dear Kate, I have done all that you wished; and I have sped well."
"You have, then, seen Francis?"
"Yes; I put your note into his own hands. He was much affected; but hepromised obedience to your wishes at once."
Katharine gave a sigh, and turned her face to the wall. There was ashort pause of silence before Jane proceeded:--
"He bade me tell you that his father and your kinsfolk in America arewell; and that the immediate object of his return is the love of hiscountry."
"Ah, Jane! I know what that means. I remember too well all the warmand bitter words that passed between my father and his on thatsubject. Would he had stayed in the peaceful Plantations! The oceanbetween us was not a wider separation than the gulf that divides partyfrom party at home; besides, Jane, he is deluded: they will play uponhis generous nature,--they will make a traitor of him. Rebellion is asthe sin of witchcraft. Would he had stayed abroad!"
"I must not forget, Katharine, to tell you that he strictly charged meto say that he was loyal. 'It is a word,' said he, 'of manyimports:'--mind you tell her that I am loyal.'--No, dear Katharine,his is no traitor's heart: he may be on the wrong side of thequarrel, but he is the King's true subject at the bottom."
"Hush! Jane; whisper not these dangerous words,--there is deceit inthem. The soul's enemy finds each of us treacherous enough in will,and crooked enough in judgment, without the weak and indulgent follyof our friends. Be true to me,--be English, Jane:--I love you passingwell."
Jane kissed her pale cheek; and there was another pause. At lastKatharine said, in a very low voice,--
"How was Cousin Francis looking? Is he in health?"
"His complexion is more brown, and he has less colour than formerly;his countenance, too, is very grave--almost sad; yet there is a steadyfire in his eyes; and he is as graceful and as strong as ever. But forhis late care and watching, I should say he was better in health thanwhen he left Milverton for America."
"He was not hurt at my note, I hope,--was he, Jane? Speak truly."
"Not hurt; but disappointed, certainly. However, he is noble andsensible, and saw that it was right."
"You think so."
"I am sure of it, by his manner."
"Do you think he will go away directly?"
"Yes; perhaps he is already gone. I could see in the firm and resolutestep with which he walked away from me that his decision was taken."
"Then it was not at the hostelry that you saw him? Where did you meethim?"
Jane now detailed, in part, the circumstances of their interview, asalready related; suppressing all mention of the passionate words andgestures of Francis, and any notice of her having been seen in hiscompany by Juxon. It had been the first intention of Jane to proceedto the house of Ruth's mother, on whose protection she could depend,and to wait there till Francis, who she doubted not was the lodgerspoken of, should return thither; for, before Jane left MilvertonHouse, Francis had already disappeared from the Beechery. It would beeasy to invent some plausible excuse to Ruth's mother for her visitto Warwick; and, having contrived her interview with Francis as if byaccident, to return to Milverton, if belated till dusk, under the oldwoman's escort. But this plan was rendered unnecessary by thecircumstance of Francis overtaking Jane upon her way to the city.
"My dear affectionate girl," said Katharine to her sweet friend, "howmuch, how very much, I thank you:--kiss me, dear, and leave me tocompose myself, if I can, to sleep."
But sleep was impossible in her frame of mind at that moment:--it wassolitude she needed, that she might meditate and weep alone. However,there was a high sound principle ever at work in her bosom; so that alittle solitary and prayerful reflection never failed to restore thecalmness of her mind, and the strength of her resolutions.
The spirit of Jane Lambert was of another sort; and, restored to theprivacy of her own chamber, she gave a free vent to the sorrow andanxiety which she had so courageously suppressed before Katharine.
When she descended to the hall to supper, and all the party wereassembled, she remarked or fancied that George Juxon expressly avoidedseating himself near her; and, after asking her one or two questionsabout the progress of Katharine's recovery, he addressed her no more.
Her pride was a little wounded to observe that he was in high andcareless spirits, and became quite the life of the table. Cuthbert,too, was, for him, unusually cheerful. Sir Oliver seemed in great goodhumour; and the boy Arthur was radiant with delightful and joyousanticipations of the new world, which an entrance at Oxford would openbefore him. Literary and characteristic anecdotes of distinguished andeccentric scholars of both universities, in times past as well aspresent, enlivened the social meal; and though but a very thinpartition separated the subjects of university discipline from thoseof church polity and state government, neither were introduced thatevening.
Jane thought that she had never before discerned so clearly the finequalities of Juxon;--his sound but charitable judgment, his accuratememory, the kindliness of his nature, and the playfulness of hisstories, at once charmed and depressed her. She wished to leave thetable; yet still she lingered on, listening and irresolute; and theproposal to retire was first made by Mistress Alice.
An avowed contempt for the opinion of the many is not inconsistentwith a very earnest and anxious regard for the judgment of the fewwhom we chance to admire and esteem. The dear, high-spirited girl, whothought herself above the censure of the world, and indifferent to itsvoice, was now, though clear from the slightest reproach ofconscience, agonised with apprehensions lest she should have forfeitedthe respect of George Juxon. When, at a later hour, the household wasassembled for the evening service, and the prayers were reverentlyread by Juxon, her heart beat in her bosom so quick and loud as to beaudible to Cuthbert Noble, who kneeled near her. As soon as they rose,he regarded her with a look of such compassionate inquiry, that Jane,fearing he was about to question her concerning her health, and notdaring to trust herself with a reply, abruptly left the apartment.
Juxon had himself observed her flushed cheek and her disturbedmanners, and began to entertain very serious alarm for her. How farhis duty as a friend, and, above all, as a Christian minister,authorised him to seek acquaintance with the nature and extent ofthose secret engagements of Jane Lambert, which he could not but fear,from her evident agitation, were at variance with plain principle andprudence, it was not easy for him to resolve. He truly liked herfrank, generous, and inartificial character. He knew full well that inher brother she had neither a kind, a careful, or a wise guardian. Itwas surely wrong to stand upon the brink of a whirlpool, and see anyone drawn down to ruin, whom it was in our power, if not to save, atleast to admonish of the danger. His mind instantly reverted to thenoble Katharine as the proper channel through which his manly andbenevolent warnings might be safely conveyed with delicacy andeffect. But many days might yet elapse ere the opportunity of aconversation with Katharine might occur; for she was confined not onlyto her chamber, but to her bed. Should he venture to hint his fears toherself? Yes: if she was the character he yet hoped to find her, itwould be taken well; if not, it would matter very little in what lightshe viewed his disinterested service.
On the following morning, soon after breakfast, he saw Jane Lambert byherself in the Lime Walk, and he joined her.
She looked surprised and embarrassed; and he was not without a fearthat his presence at that moment was inconvenient and irksome, andvery possibly prevented her going forth to an interview with her loverin the very same field
s where he had met her the evening before.
However, from the very fear he took courage; and, after the commonsalutations and usual words about the garden and the weather hadpassed, he broke the subject thus:--
"Mistress Jane, you are too little acquainted with the world for yourown happiness, or rather, for your security,--may a friend say thiswithout offending you?"
"A friend may say any thing to me, Master Juxon, that a damsel may notblush to hear."
"I understand you--I must say no more--and yet I meant you well."
"But good intentions do often tread upon the foot just where it ismost tender."
"Well, lady, enough: I will spare your maiden blushes; only remember,of our sex, that he doth always act most openly who is most loyal."
"Loyal! Master Juxon, what mean you? Did you then so far forgetyourself as to follow and trace out the gentleman whom you lastevening stood watching as he parted from me?--I do not understandyou."
"Mistress Jane, you should have known me better;--so far from watchingyour interview with the strange gentleman with whom I saw you, it wasto avoid intrusion that I waited in the adjoining close till youparted from him, and would have gone back again altogether, but forthe great circuit and the business which I had in Warwick."
"You saw us part, then?"
"Yes, to my wonder, and to my sorrow that my eyes had caught an actionmeant only for your own. Lady, forgive the word; but at lovers' oathsforget not that Cupid laughs:--may Jane Lambert never be won by anysuitor who does not openly woo her!"
"Amen to your kind wish, Master Juxon--so be it:--I know what youthink, and am sorry, but I cannot help it;--however, you are not myfather confessor, nor do I ever wish to have one."
"True, lady; but though not your confessor, I am your friend, yourtrue and bold friend, or I should never have dared to utter what Ihave done. I can have no object in these hints but your best andhighest interest: that which I have noticed to yourself I shall nevermention to any other, except, perhaps, to Katharine Heywood, fromwhose lips whatever falls is wise and noble."
"O! not to her--name not this idle matter to her. Promise me, Juxon,that you will not breathe a syllable about it to her. I shall be moreunhappy if you do than I am already."
"Alas! you are then unhappy, and would shun the best help andconsolation which friendship would provide for you. No, this I cannotpromise; on the contrary, I am only confirmed in the propriety of myintention."
"Well, I implore you again, and earnestly, not to speak upon thissubject to Katharine. As you value my peace of mind, be silent upon itto all: there is a mystery about it I may not unfold. I know thatappearances are against me: I am sorry for your hard thoughts, but Imust bear them. I could wish to explain these cross circumstances toyou, but am not free to do so without violating a sacred duty. Promiseme that you will meet my wish." Thus saying, she put her hand upon hisarm, and looked into his face with wet and beseeching eyes. "Juxon,you have always been plain and true, and friendly to me; and though Iand my perplexities ill deserve your interest or care, promise methat you will not name them to dear Katharine."
For a moment Juxon was affected by the wild earnestness of her manner;and he thought he had never seen more heart or feeling in theexpression of a human countenance than in the flushed face of JaneLambert.
"Well, Mistress Jane, you are so urgent, that I must promise to obeyyour will; but it grieves me to see you thus sadly troubled. May Godhelp you, and guide you, and guard you, and keep you from evil, thatit may not grieve you! Your secret is safe with me."
"And shall I lose your friendship?"
"No, lady, never: would only that it may have worth sufficient in youreyes to be used aright!"
"Believe me, I shall never forget it, and I will never do aught toforfeit such a treasure;"--so saying, she hurried away, with tears inher eyes, and left him absorbed in a state of feeling which cannot bedescribed.
The more he thought of what he had witnessed the evening before, andthe more he considered the conversation which had just passed, themore satisfied he was that Jane Lambert was secretly betrothed to someone whom she dared not openly acknowledge as her lover. It was alsoplain, that, for some powerful reason, she had not confided the secretof this attachment even to Katharine, who was her bosom friend. He hadcomfort in remembering that nothing could be more respectful than theaction of the stranger, when he kissed her hand at parting; andcombining this with her own honest looks and proud though mysteriousexpressions, he was satisfied that, up to the present moment, she hadtaken no irrevocable step. There was, moreover, a warm strength in herlast words, that assured him his friendly cautions were not thrownaway, and that his motives were not misinterpreted. Upon the whole, hewas justified, to his own mind, in what he had done; and his thoughtsrested upon the character of Jane with greater interest than it hadever before excited in him.
"How very generous and devoted would be the love of such a girl,"said he to himself: "what a proud spirit, what an affectionate heart,she has; what a fire there is in her fine eyes--I never before saw herlook half so beautiful:--it is clear that they have been lighted up bylove:--well, God grant that the man of her choice may be worthy ofit!"
He now sauntered slowly back to the house; and entering the library,found Cuthbert Noble sitting alone, and making extracts from an oldfolio volume.
"You see," said the young tutor, "I am making preparations for mydeparture from Milverton; but thus I may innocently suck honey fromthe hives of Sir Oliver, without robbing him, or those who come afterhim, of the smallest portion of such sweets as they contain."
"And what may be your study?" said Juxon, as he came up to the table,and looked over him.
"A curious work," replied Cuthbert, "containing the most remarkablepieces of John Huss, together with his life--imprinted in the lastcentury at Augsburg."
"Friend Cuthbert, you are too constant in these serious and solemnstudies and speculations."
"Master Juxon," answered the pale youth, "they are every thing or theyare nothing."
"Verily, for my part I think divine truth is as clear and glorious asthe sun in the firmament; and to warm ourselves, and to walk in thelight of it, is better wisdom than to read so many commentaries anddiscourses upon it."
"May we not sometimes lie indolently warming ourselves by a fire ofour own, and fancy it as comfortable as basking in the sun? Walking inthe light is no such easy matter; and in my case I find that thewords, and, above all, the examples, of those who have earnestlycontended for the truth, as so many outstretched and helping hands toassist me in climbing the hill."
"What hill?"
"The high hill, Master Juxon, where the reformers and martyrs of pasttimes have left the print of their blessed footsteps."
"Cuthbert, I see that you are in earnest, that you are sincere; butyou are on a road beset by enemies, to the full as dangerous as thoseon any other. Pride may be waiting to assail you,--spiritual pride,the worst of all enemies: you want to do something; you would unlockheaven's gates by some great performance:--remember its arches are solow that none can enter them who crawl not on their knees:--the littlechild's is the appointed stature for all believers."
"That, indeed, is true--it is a solemn truth; but there are beasts tobe fought with, Juxon, and the stern combat is at hand. It is uponthis I think by day, on this I dream by night."
"So much the worse: you are commanded, in many senses, to 'take nothought for the morrow;' and in none is it more your duty to obey theprecept than in waiting the events of the coming day in quietness andin confidence: you conjure up shadows that you may fight with them."
"Nay, but you wrong my judgment:--to you they may so seem; but my eyecan see the black and dismal realities beyond, which reflect theseshadows."
"Well, Cuthbert, it is vain to talk with you on these subjects:--onall others you are so clear and reasonable, that I shall alwaysremember our intercourse with pleasure. I hear that there is a newarrangement, and that you do not wait to accompany Arthur to Oxford;
but that you leave Milverton next week, therefore, very probably, Ishall not see you again till your departure. Farewell, friend: my bestand warmest wishes for your happiness will always accompany you. Ishall ever be happy to hear of or from you, and be delighted to meetyou again."
With these words he put out his hand to Cuthbert, who grasped iteagerly, and struggled for a reply in vain.
The parting had taken him totally by surprise:--the thought of allJuxon's friendly and kind services, of all his frank and endearingqualities, came up, with a rush before his fancy, and choked hisutterance. The strong pressure of Cuthbert's hand, and the slownesswith which he released that of Juxon, told the latter all that hewould have said; and, as the door closed behind his departing friend,Cuthbert sank back into his seat, and, resting his head with hiddenface upon the table, remained for several minutes silent andmotionless.