by Mayne Reid
what you have told me."
"With you, Rowland," she continued, turning her eyes upon me, withsomething of the old friendly look, "with you, I have been acquaintedmany years; and the principal reason I had for doubting your integrityand truthfulness, was because I thought that, had you possessed theregard for us, you should have had, you would certainly have come backafter the death of my husband.
"You did not; and the circumstance, as you will admit, was strongagainst you. I have now much reason to believe that I have beendeceived in Adkins; and I do not know whom to trust. I must supposethat all of you have come here without any ill feeling towards me: for Iknow not why you should wish to do me an injury.
"I have a respect for those in whom Mr Hyland placed confidence. Ihave heard him speak well of all of you; and I do not remember now ofanything he ever said that should give me a favourable opinion ofAdkins. Indeed, I never heard Mr Hyland speak much concerning him. Itis my duty to think of the past as well as the present, before I can sayanything more."
Wilton and Mason both assured Mrs Hyland that they had only acted underthe influence of a sense of duty--inspired by the respect they had forthe memory of her husband.
We left the house; but not till Mrs Hyland had shaken hands with me,and at the same time extended to me an invitation to call the next day;and not till Mrs Hyland's daughter had given me reason to believe thatmy visit would be welcome.
Volume One, Chapter XIV.
ONCE MORE FRIENDS.
I did call the next day, and had no particular reason to be dissatisfiedwith my reception.
Mrs Hyland did not meet me in the same motherly manner, she once usedto exhibit; but I did not expect it; and I could not feel displeased atbeing admitted on any terms, into the presence of a being so beautifulas Lenore.
Neither did _she_ receive me in the same manner she used to do in thepast; but neither was I annoyed by that circumstance. It was necessarythat the child-like innocence and familiarity, once existing between us,should cease; and it was no chagrin to me to perceive that it had doneso.
I confessed to Mrs Hyland, that I had acted wrong in not returning toLiverpool after her husband's death; but I also explained to her how, onbeing discharged from the ship, I had felt myself sorely aggrieved; and,having no longer a home, I had to wander about as circumstancesdictated. I added, of course, that could I have had the least suspicionthat my absence would have been construed into any evidence of crime oringratitude, I would have returned long before to refute the calumny.
Lenore did not try to conceal her pleasure, at seeing her mother andmyself conversing once more as friends.
"You must not leave us again, Rowland," said she, "for we have not manyfriends, and can ill-afford to lose one. See how near we have been tolosing you--all through your being absent."
"Yes, Rowland," said Mrs Hyland. "My house was once your home; and youare welcome to make it so again. I shall only be fulfilling the wishesof my husband, by renewing the intimate friendship that once existedbetween us."
Her invitation to make her house once more my home, I reluctantlydeclined. Lenore seemed no longer my sister; and with some sorrow theconviction forced itself on my mind--that my fate was to love--to love,yet wander far from the one I loved.
Lenore was now a young lady. I thought myself a man. As children, wecould no longer live together--no longer dwell under the same roof.Lenore was too beautiful; and I was too much afflicted with poverty.Any further acquaintance between us might not contribute to my futurehappiness but the contrary.
I left the house with mingled feelings of pleasure and despair, pleasedto find myself once more restored to the good opinion of Mrs Hyland--despairing of being able to resist the fascinations of her daughter'sbeauty.
Every time I gazed upon her fair face, could only add to my misery. Iwas young; and as I had been told, good-looking. Lenore and I had beenold friends and playmates. It was possible for me to win her love; butwould it be honourable?
Would it be a proper return for the kindness of Captain Hyland and hiswidow, for me, a penniless "rolling stone," to try to win the affectionsof their only child, and subject her to the misery of my own unfortunatelot? No! I could love Lenore; but I could not act in such an unworthymanner.
Then followed the reflection, that Mrs Hyland had some property. Herhome would be mine. She needed a son-in-law to look after the ship; andI was a seaman.
These thoughts only stirred within me a feeling of pride, that would notallow me to receive any advantage of fortune from one I could choose fora wife. I knew that with all the exertions a man may make--and howevercorrect his habits may be--he cannot live happily with a wife who bringsinto the firm of husband and wife more money than himself.
Another unpleasant consideration came before me. Why should I beseeking for reasons against marrying Lenore, when perhaps she might notconsent to marry _me_? Because we were old friends, was no reason whyshe should ever think of me as a husband. By trying to make her loveme, I might, as she had said of Mr Adkins, cause her only to hate me.
The day after my visit to Mrs Hyland and Lenore, I went to see Mason,the steward, in order that I might thank him for the good word he hadspoken for me--as well as for much kindness he had shown towards me,when we were shipmates in the `Lenore.' He received me in a cordialmanner, that caused me to think better of mankind, than I had latelydone. In a long conversation I held with him, he told me of many actsof dishonesty, in the committal of which he had detected Adkins, who, hesaid, had been robbing Mrs Hyland in every way he could.
"Captain Hyland took much trouble in giving you some education," saidhe; "why don't you marry the daughter, and take command of the ship?"
"I am a poor penniless adventurer," I replied, "and dare not aspire toso much happiness as would be mine, were I to become the husband, aswell as captain, of `Lenore.' I am neither so vain nor ambitious."
"That's a fact," said Mason. "You have not enough of either. No manever did any thing for himself, or any one else, without thinkingsomething of himself, and making such a trial as you decline toundertake. He is a lucky man who wins without trying."
There was truth in what the steward said; but the Hylands had been myfriends, and were so again; and I could not bring myself to abuse theconfidence they had placed in me. I could not speak of love to Lenore,and so I told the steward.
In this interview with Mason, I learnt from him that Adkins haddisappeared, and could no more be found!
"His flight," said Mason, "will be positive proof to Mrs Hyland that hewas unworthy of the confidence she had placed in him. She cannot be toothankful, that your return has been the means of her discovering histrue character. I would have exposed him long ago, but I did not thinkthat I could succeed; and that I would only be doing myself an injury--in short, ruining my poor family, without the consolation of knowingthat I had also ruined a scoundrel. Thank the Lord for all his mercies!The villain has been uncloaked at last."
With this pious thanksgiving ended the interview, between the honeststeward and myself.
Volume One, Chapter XV.
LOVE AND POVERTY.
From that time I called every day to see Lenore and her mother; and eachtime came away more hopelessly infatuated.
My money was gradually growing easier to count--until I found that I hadbut a few shillings left, and necessity must soon force me to seekemployment. Of course I contemplated going to sea, and making my livingon board some ship; but I found it impossible to come to adetermination.
How was I to leave Liverpool, where I could gaze each day on the beautythat adorned Lenore?
I could not take my departure until circumstances should compel me. Inorder to protract my stay as long as possible, I lived on but one mealper diem; and as I had also to keep a little money for my lodgings, Imade that meal upon a penny roll.
Mrs Hyland had determined on giving up the ship--a resolution no doubtdue to the mismanagement, or rather dishonesty, of him who had latelycommanded her.
I assisted her in finding a purchaser; and she was veryfortunate in disposing of the vessel at a good price.
She had plenty of money, and was willing to aid me. But pride preventedme from accepting of anything but her friendship; and ofttimes did Iappear in the presence of Lenore while suffering the pangs of hunger!Was that love?
I thought it was; and on this fancy, and a single roll of bread, I livedfrom day to day. Never had I been so happy, and, at the same time, sowretched. I could look upon her I loved, and converse with her forhours at a time. That was happiness. But I loved Lenore, and mustleave her. That was misery.
Lenore seemed to meet me with so much cheerfulness, that my resolutionto leave her--without being absolutely compelled to it--was often nearlybroken; and I believe there are but few who would have resisted thetemptation to stay. But pride, a sense of justice, and a love ofindependence, prompted me to go forth again upon the world, and