A bloom was spread over the morning sky. A soft golden light bathed withits fresh beam the bosom of the valley, except where a delicate haze,rather than a mist, still partially lingered over the river, which yetoccasionally gleamed and sparkled in the sunshine. A sort of shadowylustre suffused the landscape, which, though distinct, was mitigated inall its features--the distant woods, the clumps of tall trees that roseabout the old grey bridge, the cottage chimneys that sent their smokeinto the blue still air, amid their clustering orchards and garden offlowers and herbs.
Ah! what is there so fresh and joyous as a summer morn! That spring timeof the day, when the brain is bright, and the heart is brave; the seasonof daring and of hope; the renovating hour!
Came forth from his cottage room the brother of Lord Marney, to feel thevigorous bliss of life amid sunshiny gardens and the voices of bees andbirds.
"Ah! this is delicious!" he felt. "This is existence! Thank God I amhere; that I have quitted for ever that formal and heartless Marney.Were it not for my mother, I would remain Mr Franklin for ever. Would Iwere indeed a journalist; provided I always had a mission to the valeof Mowbray. Or anything, so that I were ever here. As companions,independent of everything else, they are superior to any that I havebeen used to. Why do these persons interest me? They feel and theythink: two habits that have quite gone out of fashion, if ever theyexisted, among my friends. And that polish of manners, that studied andfactitious refinement, which is to compensate for the heartlessness orthe stupidity we are doomed to--is my host of last night deficient inthat refinement? If he do want our conventional discipline, he has anative breeding which far excels it. I observe no word or action whichis not prompted by that fine feeling which is the sure source of goodtaste. This Gerard appears to me a real genuine man; full of knowledgeworked out by his own head; with large yet wholesome sympathies; and adeuced deal better educated than Lord de Mowbray or my brother--and theydo occasionally turn over a book, which is not the habit of our set.
"And his daughter--ay, his daughter! There is something almost sublimeabout that young girl, yet strangely sweet withal; a tone so loftycombined with such simplicity is very rare. For there is no affectationof enthusiasm about her; nothing exaggerated, nothing rhapsodical. Herdark eyes and lustrous face, and the solemn sweetness of her thrillingvoice--they haunt me; they have haunted me from the first moment Iencountered her like a spirit amid the ruins of our abbey. And I amone of 'the family of sacrilege.' If she knew that! And I am one of theconquering class she denounces. If also she knew that! Ah! there is muchto know! Above all--the future. Away! the tree of knowledge is the treeof death. I will have no thought that is not as bright and lovely asthis morn."
He went forth from his little garden, and strolled along the road in thedirection of the cottage of Gerard, which was about three quarters ofa mile distant. You might see almost as far; the sunshiny road a littlewinding and rising a very slight ascent. The cottage itself was hid byits trees. While Egremont was still musing of one who lived under thatroof, he beheld in the distance Sybil.
She was springing along with a quick and airy step. Her black dressdisplayed her undulating and elastic figure. Her little foot boundedfrom the earth with a merry air. A long rosary hung at her side; andher head was partly covered with a hood which descended just over hershoulders. She seemed gay, for Harold kept running before her with afrolicsome air, and then returning to his mistress, danced about her,and almost overpowered her with his gambols.
"I salute thee, holy sister," said Egremont.
"Oh! is not this a merry morn!" she exclaimed with a bright and happyface.
"I feel it as you. And whither do you go?"
"I go to the convent; I pay my first visit to our Superior since I leftthem."
"Not very long ago," said Egremont, with a smile, and turning with her.
"It seems so," said Sybil.
They walked on together; Sybil glad as the hour; noticing a thousandcheerful sights, speaking to her dog in her ringing voice, as hegambolled before them, or seized her garments in his mouth, and ever andanon bounded away and then returned, looking up in his mistress' face toinquire whether he had been wanted in his absence.
"What a pity it is that your father's way each morning lies up thevalley," said Egremont; "he would be your companion to Mowbray."
"Ah! but I am so happy that he has not to work in a town," said Sybil."He is not made to be cooped up in a hot factory in a smoky street. Atleast he labours among the woods and waters. And the Traffords are suchgood people! So kind to him and to all."
"You love your father very much."
She looked at him a little surprised; and then her sweet serious facebroke into a smile and she said, "And is that strange?"
"I think not," said Egremont; "I am inclined to love him myself."
"Ah! you win my heart," said Sybil, "when you praise him. I think thatis the real reason why I like Stephen; for otherwise he is always sayingsomething with which I cannot agree, which I disapprove; and yet he isso good to my father!"
"You speak of Mr Morley--"
"Oh! we don't call him 'Mr'," said Sybil slightly laughing.
"I mean Stephen Morley," said Egremont recalling his position, "whom Imet in Marney Abbey. He is very clever, is he not?"
"He is a great writer and a great student; and what he is he has madehimself. I hear too that you follow the same pursuit," said Sybil.
"But I am not a great writer or a great student," said Egremont.
"Whatever you be, I trust," said Sybil, in a more serious tone, "thatyou will never employ the talents that God has given you against thePeople."
"I have come here to learn something of their condition," said Egremont."That is not to be done in a great city like London. We all of us livetoo much in a circle. You will assist me, I am sure," added Egremont;"your spirit will animate me. You told me last night that there was noother subject, except one, which ever occupied your thoughts."
"Yes," said Sybil, "I have lived under two roofs, only two roofs; andeach has given me a great idea; the Convent and the Cottage. One hastaught me the degradation of my faith, the other of my race. You shouldnot wonder, therefore, that my heart is concentrated on the Church andthe People."
"But there are other ideas," said Egremont, "that might equally beentitled to your thought."
"I feel these are enough," said Sybil; "too great, as it is, for mybrain."
Book 3 Chapter 7
Sybil, Or, The Two Nations Page 28