Modern Flirtations: A Novel

by Catherine Sinclair

  CHAPTER XLIV.

  During the deepest midnight, the unseen light is still incessantlyapproaching, though man remains insensible of its progress till theglorious dawn of morning; and thus the march of coming events hurriesdaily on unnoticed and unknown. Never before had it appeared, to theimpatient mind of Agnes, that the sands of her hour-glass fell soslowly and silently. In her heart there was scarcely sufficient depthof soil for grief to strike a very permanent root, as her superficialfeelings were calculated only to produce a mushroom crop of pettydiscontents and selfish grievances. Sharp and acute as the pang of herdisappointed vanity had been, it seemed destined not to be verylasting, as Marion, on returning one day from a long walk, almostsmiled to find Lady Towercliffe seated in their small parlour, anddiligently pouring a torrent of lively gossip into the ears of Agnes,who felt little disposed at first to become interested in all theill-assorted marriages people might choose to make, or to care who haddied, or were likely to be born: but gradually her mind had been openedto the consideration of whether Miss Brown were a suitable match forMr. Grey--whether L500 a year might possibly be enough to maintainCaptain Jackson of the 10th and Lady Maria Meredith, whose individualexpenditure on dress amounted to L400 per annum each, and whether itwould be best for Lieutenant Stanley and Miss Maynard to marry andsettle in Australia, or to continue single and remain at home.

  Agnes had no possible chance of seeing the parties, or of influencingtheir decision. She would probably never hear more of them, nor had shebeen previously aware of their existence, yet the magic of LadyTowercliffe's eloquence gradually led her on to argue the merits ofeach case, as if she had been the arbiter of their fate, till atlength, being insensibly roused from her stupor of melancholyindulgence, the visit was concluded by Agnes joyfully consenting todine at Lady Towercliffe's next day, to meet a party of friends.

  After having feared that her sister never would smile again, Marionnow, with glad surprise, heard Agnes once more actually laugh, and shecould not but wonder that Lady Towercliffe, by putting her through acourse of gossip, and administering to a "mind diseased" a strongmixture of love affairs, quarrels, sicknesses, and bankruptcies, hadacted on the spirits of Agnes as a counter-irritation, so that, in thecontemplation of other people's miseries, she attained a spuriousresignation beneath her own. As sorrow is the rust of the soul,everything that traverses the surface, has a tendency to scour it away,and the scattered links of Agnes' happiness seemed brightening nowagain, as if they might at last be reunited into as glittering a chainas before, while her cheek resumed its wonted hue and her tongue itswonted volubility. After the first great affliction of life, it is saidthat the sufferer never is again the same, "that the heart can know nosecond spring;" but now there seemed every probability that, though thedrooping pinions of her ambition had been lowered, Agnes might soon puta patch on her worn-out spirits, and be only too much restored to herformer self. When the carriage next day arrived, which was to conveyher to Lady Towercliffe's, Marion, ever ready to enjoy any happinessreflected from the eyes of others, bid her good night with a sensationof real pleasure at this unexpected revival.

  There are strange coincidences in every day life, and the small dinnerparty at Lady Towercliffe's accidentally contained the two last personson earth who would have wished to meet. When Lord Towercliffe receivedAgnes with friendly cordiality at the door, he had not yet relinquishedher hand before he suddenly felt his own grasped with a convulsivestart, and when he hastily looked up, the countenance of his newlyarrived guest had grown pale as that of a spectre, her eyes wereclosed, and he felt her hand become as cold and heavy as lead. Toowell-bred to notice her strange emotion, which there was an evidenteffort to conceal, he naturally ascribed it to the remembrance ofrecent family affliction, when now, for the first time, enteringsociety again, and he silently led Agnes to a seat beside LadyCharlotte Malcolm and Miss Howard Smytheson.

  Agnes did not once look round the room, but she heard the low, deeptones of a voice with which she had too long been familiar, though nowit must for ever be to her the voice of a stranger. Captain DeCrespigny had been, some time previously, dividing his fascinationsbetween the only two young ladies in the room, and he continued still,with the same light laugh as before, to exhibit his rare gift ofconversational humor and vivacity, after giving a slight bow to Agnes,which she did not even see. A mist was before her sight--a ringing inher ears--her very heart seemed benumbed--and her only desire being toavoid notice, while her parched lips refused to articulate, shesilently fixed her large eyes on Lady Caroline Malcolm, assuming anaspect of attention, and inwardly thankful that there was something inthe room at which she could look, while circumstances had thus sopainfully and so very unexpectedly "awoke the nerve where agony wasborn."

  The world, usually one great "School for Scandal," had not yetcirculated the story of Captain De Crespigny's inconstancy, and Agnes'disappointment; therefore, dreading above all things the contemptuouspity bestowed on a case like hers, she now exerted herself, from thefear of ridicule more than even of censure. The strongest emotions ofexistence are concealed in the great drama of life; and though Agnesfelt herself grow blind when dinner was announced, yet she afterwardsretained a confused recollection of having walked down stairs, leaningon the arm of an officer whom she had never seen before, discussing thehue of a ribbon, or the probability of a war, while her whole heart,mind, and spirit, were torn with contending emotions.

  Strange is the ignorance in which people may live respecting the realthoughts and feelings of those with whom they are at the moment inactual contact! Agnes possessed an energy and pride of spirit whichsupported her now, while with flushed cheeks, and eyes brightened byagitation, her volubility became like a delirium. What she said to thestranger might be sense or nonsense, she neither cared nor knew, whileher own laugh sounded unnatural in her ears; but still her companionlistened and smiled, looking even more admiration than he felt, andwhile Agnes rattled on with apparent recklessness, he was inwardlyconjecturing whether this could possibly be the beautiful Miss Dunbarwho had endeavord to "entrap" his brother officer De Crespigny,artfully attempting what she had not been artful enough to achieve.

  When the endless dinner was ended at last, and the ladies rose towithdraw, Agnes could willingly have fled from the house for solitude;but Lady Towercliffe, to beguile the interval, importunately begged formusic, and persecuted her to sing. It was weeks since Agnes hadattempted a note, but, anxious to avoid notice, she tried to rememberthe songs best known to her. Each as it rose to memory, seemed filledwith remembrances in which she dared not indulge. Who but the unhappycan tell the power of music in recalling vanished years and vanishedjoys! One song Captain De Crespigny had formerly accompanied, anotherhe had admired, a third he had copied out for her. All their sentimentsof love and constancy he had with ready flattery applied to herself,and each had been played or sung only for him.

  Hopes and feelings now for ever extinct, crowded into her memory; acold, curdling anguish gathered round her heart; the notes died awayinaudibly, and Agnes at length, leaning her forehead on the music-desk,burst into an irresistible flood of tears, while her eyes rested atthese words,--

  "Long hours have passed on Since that name was too dear; Now its music is gone, It is death to my ear!"

  "Poor thing!" whispered Lady Towercliffe, "Her uncle's death makes asad change in their circumstances, and she lives too much alone now.People rave about the pleasures of solitude, but I never could findthem out! They are excellent for poetry, but, like the Arabian apple,they turn to ashes when tried. I never could keep up the shuttle-cockwith only one battle-dore."

  "Nor I! particularly in conversation," said Captain De Crespigny,entering. "There is old Crawford below stairs, with single-handeddiligence, stringing off his whole book of anecdotes; I left him at No.5, so he has three yet to come, before the gentlemen escape! The lasthe told was perfectly stupendiferous! That man's mind is like an oldchest, but there is an end to all agreeable conversation, when pe
oplebegin drawing for it on their memories! I am so wearied now, that Ishall give any one L5 who can amuse me for half an hour!"

  The solitude at Seabeach Cottage was not destined to remain much longeruninterrupted, as the very evening subsequent to Lady Towercliffe'sparty, after Agnes had retired in feverish dejection to spend some timein her own room, Marion was startled by a loud impatient peal at thebell, and the next moment her hand was eagerly clasped in that of HenryDe Lancey, whose countenance, in returning thus to his altered home,was pale and haggard with strong emotion. Marion started up, giving anexclamation of sudden joy at his unexpected appearance, while amomentary smile flashed on her countenance, like a gleam of sunshine onthe dark face of a wintry cloud; but his eye sadly wandered towards theportrait of Sir Arthur, with a long lingering look of deep affection,and, covering his face with his hands, he threw himself on a sofa,remaining for some time buried in silence while his whole frame shookwith emotion, one burst of grief following another.

  It was long, very long before Henry could listen to the mournful detailof all Sir Arthur had said and suffered in his short and fatal illness;but the feelings of Marion were soothed thus to meet at last with onewho thought and felt like herself. Grief that disperses itself in wordsand tears is speedily over; but theirs was of that calm, concentratednature which consumes the heart, though Marion assured Henry thatnothing had yet done her so much good, as this happy, but mostunexpected meeting.

  "Did you suppose, Marion, that I could remain absent at a time likethis! Impossible! I no sooner heard all, than I applied for leave. Itis sad, indeed, to find so changed a home. I cannot speak of that! Hewas too good for this world, and is gone to a better! I can only weepto look around me here, where his affectionate smile can welcome me nomore."

  "Yes!" faltered Marion. "But memory, like a miracle, restores him to meevery day! I seem to behold his face, to hear his voice, to know histhoughts. That calm and cheerful portrait appears to tell me sometimeshow gladly he is done with all the weary business and heart-sinkingtrials of this vain, perplexing world."

  "When such friends part, 'tis the survivor dies," observed Henry,mournfully. "But it has been hinted to me, Marion, that the man I esteemthe most in this world has trifled with your affections! I cannotbelieve it! I was long in his confidence, and if there be truth in man,he loves you with an attachment which nothing can alter. Half themiseries in life proceed from a want of explanation. No! there is somemystery we cannot solve. A thousand mistakes may occur in the absenceof friends; but for his sake, as much as your's, and for my own sake,most of all, I shall outstrip the swiftest courier, and return with hisentire justification. But there is another business also to bediscussed," added Henry, with a sudden change of tone and countenance,while his face glowed with a look of strong excitement, and he bit hislip till the very blood seemed ready to spring out. "Your sister,Marion! Agnes has been made the sport of an unprincipled, heartless,coxcomb. His conduct embittered the last days of my benefactor andfriend! He must and shall be made to repent it!"

  "Henry! what do you mean?" interrupted Marion, startled and alarmed byhis evident irritation. "Do not make me regret having entrusted youwith all our girlish fancies and follies! Such things happen everyday!"

  "No, Marion! Had the insult been only to Sir Patrick, he considers thehappiness of others, and even his own honor, as trifles compared withimmediate convenience. His sister's peace of mind might be destroyedwithout his having the wish, or me the right to interfere, but, inrespect to Agnes, as the niece of Sir Arthur, it is not so. I know howher heart was gained, and has been crushed. It is said that ten yearsof ordinary suffering would not have made such ravages as are alreadyvisible in the countenance of Agnes, and she must not be so treatedwith impunity. But a day of retribution may come upon him, yet!"

  "Dear Henry!" interrupted Marion, anxiously, "Do not add to what wehave already suffered, by imprudence on your part. I little thoughtthat any circumstance could ever make me otherwise than happy to meetyou, but your impetuosity now really alarms me!"

  "It does no such thing! at least it should not," said Henry, assumingfor a moment his old vivacity of manner, but it would not do. A tone ofcheerfulness in that house, now jarred painfully on his ear, and againfixing his eyes on the portrait of Sir Arthur, he added, in a low, deeptone of intense feeling: "No, Marion!--in this room, consecrated tokindness and affection,--on this seat, so long occupied by the mostgenerous of benefactors, and before that Holy Bible in which beinstructed us both, I promise to speak, act, and think, as he wouldhave dictated. My situation now is most perplexing! De Crespigny hasacted the part of a brother towards me since I joined his regiment. Hehas courted my friendship and intimacy to a degree for which I canscarcely account, but for which I felt most grateful, till within thesefew days, when a strange and most perplexing communication has beenmade to me."

  An air of deep and anxious thought gathered over the countenance ofHenry; he covered his face with his hands, and Marion listened insilence, when he continued in a rapid, agitated voice.

  "The unhappy madman, Howard, wrote me lately a long, incoherent letter,in which he accused De Crespigny of having instigated him twelve yearsago, to that dreadful deed which made me motherless; adding, that thevery peculiar weapon then found on the bed, had been furnished by him;and I have ascertained since from Martin, that De Crespigny, when aboy, had precisely such a knife given to him. I am told that he hasbeen making many secret inquiries lately, respecting the papers foundin my mother's bureau; and he frankly mentioned the subject once to mehimself, saying, I little knew the deep interest he still had ininvestigating that affair. He is a man I cannot, and do not suspect ofa dishonorable thought in his transactions with gentlemen; but thoughentirely acquitting him on that point, Marion, I am determined to speakmy whole mind to De Crespigny this night. He is now at Mrs.Smytheson's, in the next house, and we are going to town together, whenhis ears shall ring with my opinion of his conduct to Agnes!"

  "Then, dear Henry, be prudent! It would not benefit us, if you andCaptain De Crespigny were to get into an Irish rage, and shoot eachother. Love once extinguished can never be forced back, and we cannotbring repentance to those who are destitute of feeling; therefore, forour sakes, be silent."

  Young De Lancey strode a few hasty turns up and down the room, inagitated silence, and seemed preparing to depart, when the door wasslowly opened, and Agnes glided into the room, while Henry started,looking doubtfully at first, as if he scarcely recognised her; and thenadvancing, he received Agnes with an expression of warm-heartedkindness, which brought the hectic color for a moment to her cheek.

  When Henry glanced at the expression of settled melancholy on thebeautiful features of Agnes, a gleam of indignant emotion flashedacross his countenance, but it was succeeded by an effort to appearcheerful; and by "smiles that might as well be tears," when he extendedhis hand, saying, with all the vivacity he could assume,

  "Here I am, quite unexpectedly, Agnes! like snow in summer, or a burstof sunshine at midnight! A little surprise will do you and Marion good!It acts like an electric shock! I remember the time, Agnes, when younever gave me above three fingers to shake, and now your whole hand ispresented, therefore I may feel really welcome."

  "Yes, Henry!" replied Marion, seeing her sister unable yet to speak;"we shall now endeavor to get up our spirits!"

  "That may be easy for those who have any spirits to get up!" addedAgnes, in a tone of peevish melancholy. "But if Marion chooses to lookthrough a Claude-Loraine glass, and declare that the whole earth andsky are _couleur de rose_, must I wipe my eyes with my elbow, and saythe same? All I can do is, if possible, to forget myself to stone. Youwere always a light-hearted being, Henry! Would it make you serious tobe told of one like me whose heart is turned to ashes! The world is aCastle of Desolation now, with not a tie that binds me to theearth--not one!" added she bitterly, while her eyes were purposelyaverted from the reproachful kindness of Marion's expression.

  "Agnes," interrupted Henry, in his
kindest manner, "you wasted muchgood advice on me formerly, but now it is my turn. As an old Frenchlady once judiciously remarked, '_Il n'y a pas de plus grande folie,que d'etre malheureux_.' For Marion's sake and your own, do nottreasure up grief as if it were gold! When one plan of happiness fails,we should always change horses, and drive on with another! It is afatal mistake to throw up the game of life, if our favorite hope fails!Try pleasure now, on some new pattern! We should look on both sides ofexistence, and keep hold of it with the best handle!"

  "I will! I will!" exclaimed Agnes, flinging back the long entangledringlets from her pallid face, and forcing a wild, haggard smile intoher distorted features. "Does that please you, Henry? Do I looksufficiently happy? Why are you so disconcerted? Let us all be cheerfulagain! Shall I sing to you, or how shall we be merriest?"

  "Surely, Agnes, as we cannot mend the past, or direct the future, youmight make some of the present. Remember the old proverb, 'There is asilver lining to every cloud,'" continued Henry, assuming a tone ofanimation. "You might find a thousand occupations which become anexcellent substitute for what people call happiness. Try geology, orbook-making, or worsted work! But, Agnes," added he, more seriously,"above all, take the strong staff of religion, rather than the feeblereed of earthly hope, which has pierced you, as it will pierce all whotrust in it. Why are we placed on earth? Not to contrive a plan of lifefor ourselves, but to learn from above what is the real meaning ofhappiness--its surest source--its brightest fountain! Behind themachinery of all human events, God is at work for our real good, andevery misfortune may be transformed into a blessing, if we receive itas a Fatherly correction, and take the good it is intended to do us."

  With absent, listless indifference, Agnes took leave of Henry when hewas about to depart; but Marion's eye glistened with emotion, as shewished him good-night, entreating that he would return soon and often.

  "Trust me for that, Marion! It can never become a mere duty to visithere," replied Henry, hastily dashing away a tear. "This room is myhome, more than any other on earth. Every chair and every table isendeared to me, and how much more the living inhabitants. Even that oldgeranium, all run to wood, and covered with dust, is consecrated by athousand old recollections. Adieu!"