CHAPTER VI.

“La santé de l’Ame n’est pas plus assurée que celle du corps; et quoique V’on pes) |e q! rps
_ paraisse éloigné des passions, on nest pas moins en danger de s’y laisser emporter
- que « de tomber malade quand on se porte bien.” —La ROCHEFOUCAULD.
In spite of the efforts of Maltravers to shun all occasions meeting Evelyn, they were necessarily sometimes thrown
health of the soul is not more sure than that of the body; and although we ear free from passions, there is not the less danger of their attack, than of
ig sick at Hes moment we are bias
118 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES,
together in the round of provincial hospitalities ; and certainly, if d either Mr. Merton or Caroline (the shrewder observer of the two) had ever formed any suspicion that Evelyn had made a conquest of Maltravers, his manner at such times effectually removed it.
Maltravers was a man to feel deeply ; but no longer a boy to yield to every tempting impulse. I have said that FORTITUDE was his favourite virtue—but fortitude is the virtue of great and rare occasions; there was another, equally hardfavoured and unshowy, which he took as the staple of active and every-day duties—and that virtue was, JUSTICE. Now, in earlier life, he had been enamoured of the conventional Florimel that we call HONOUR—a shifting and shadowy phantom, that is but the reflex of the opinion of the time and clime. But justice has in it — something permanent and solid; and out of justice arises the — real, not the false honour.
“Honour!” said Maltravers—“ honour is to justice as the flower to the plant—its efflorescence, its bloom, its consumma- tion! But honour that does not spring from justice is but a piece of painted rag, an artificial rose, which the men-milliners of society would palm upon us as more natural than the true.”
This principle of justice Maltravers sought to carry out in all things —not, perhaps, with constant success; for what practice can always embody theory ?—but still, at least, his endeavour at success was constant. This, perhaps, it was which had ever kept him from the excesses to which exuberant and liberal natures are prone—from the extravagances of pseudo-genius.
“No man,” for instance,” he was wont to say, “can be em- barrassed in his own circumstances, and not cause embarrass- ment to others. Without economy, who can be just? And what are charity—generosity—but the poetry and the beauty of justice ?”
No man ever asked Maltravers twice for a just debt; and no man ever once asked him to fulfil a promise. You felt that, come what would, you might rely upon his word. Tohim might — have been applied the witty eulogium passed by Johnson upon a ~ certain nobleman :—“If he had promised you an acorn, and the
acorn season failed in England, he would have sent to Norway 4 for one!” |
f honour, which he had worshipped in youth as a part of the Beautiful and the Becoming, but which in youth had yielded to 3 temptation, as a sentiment ever must yield to a passion—but it — was the more hard, stubborn and reflective principle, which was ~ the later growth of deeper and nobler wisdom, that regulated - _ the conduct of Maltravers in this crisis of his life. Certain it is, _ that he had never but once loved as he loved Evelyn; and yet _ that he never yielded so little to the passion. “If engaged to another,” thought he, “that engagement it is” not for a third person to attempt to dissolve. I am the last to — - form a right judgment of the strength or weakness of the bonds _ which unite her to Vargrave—for my emotions would prejudice -me despite myself. I may fancy that her betrothed is not worthy of her—but that is for her to decide. While the bond lasts, who can be justified in tempting her to break it?” _ Agreeably to these notions, which the world may, perhaps, ‘- consider overstrained, whenever Maltravers met Evelyn, he - intrenched himself in a rigid and almost a chilling formality. 3 How difficult this was with one so simple and ingenuous! Poor _ Evelyn! she thought she had offended him—she longed to ask him her offence—perhaps, in her desire to rouse his genius into _ exertion, she had touched some secret sore, some latent wound Bot the memory? She recalled all their conversations again and _ again. Ah! why could they not be renewed ? Upon her fancy and her thoughts Maltravers had made an impression not to be obliterated. She wrote more frequently than ever to Lady _ Vargrave, and the name of Maltravers was found in every page of her correspondence. One evening, at the house of a neighbour, Miss Cameron (with the Mertons) entered the room almost in the same instant as Maltravers. The party was small, and so few had yet arrived, that it was impossible for Maltravers, without marked rudeness, to avoid his friends from the rectory; and Mrs. Merton, placing herself next to Evelyn, graciously motioned to Maltravers to ‘occupy the third vacant seat on the sofa, of which she filled the centre, “We grudge all your improvements, Mr. Maltravers, since
eee ease ee
It was $ not, sane the mere Norman and chivalrous spirit _ .
: What a lively, agreeable person he is!
at the latter part of this speech. He observed that she turned
120 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES.
LO
; they cost us your society. But we know that our dull circle — ;
must seem tame to one who has seen so much. However, we
expect to offer you an inducement soon in Lord Vargrave. 1” , &
>»
Sage ss eT oe eens
Maltravers raised his eyes to Evelyn, calmly and penetratingly,
pale, and sighed involuntarily.
“He had great spirits when I knew him,” said he; “and he had then less cause to make him happy.” :
Mrs. Merton smiled, and turned rather pointedly towards Evelyn. :
Maltravers continued—“I never met the late lord. He had none of the vivacity of his nephew, I believe.”
“JT have heard that he was very severe,” said Mrs. Merton, lifting her glass towards a party that had just entered. ;
“Severe!” exclaimed Evelyn. “Ah, if you could have known ~ him—the kindest—the most indulgent—no one ever loved me 2 as he did.” She paused, for she felt her lip quiver.
“J beg your pardon, my dear,’ said Mrs. Merton, coolly. Mrs. Merton had no idea of the pain inflicted by treading upona feeling. Maltravers was touched, and Mrs. Merton went on. : “No wonder he was kind to you, Evelyn—a brute would be © that ; but he was generally considered a stern man.”
“IT never saw a stern look—I never heard a harsh word; nay, I do not remember that he ever even used the word ‘ command) : said Evelyn, almost angrily.
Mrs. Merton was about to reply, when, suddenly, seeing a lady whose little girl had been ill of the measles, her motherly thoughts flowed into a new channel, and she fluttered away in —
Ae prmdeciocy
E-
_that sympathy which unites all the heads of a growing family.
Evelyn and Maltravers were left alone. “You do not remember your father, I believe?” said Maltravers. “No father but Lord Vargrave ; while he lived, I never knew the loss of one.” “Does your mother resemble you ?” ; “Ah, I wish I could think 80} it is the sweetest coun. — tenance!” |
gene would never consent to sit.” ‘Your father was a Cameron; I oo. known some “of that name.” Say Re relations of ours: my mother says we have none oe: ng.” “And have we nochance of seeing Lady Vargrave in 5B = shire?” © She never leaves home; but I hope to return soon to Bro 5 Green’ 2 - Maltravers sighed, and the conversation took a new turn. J have to thank you for the books you so kindly sent—I ught to have returned them ere this,” said Evelyn.
- “Thave no use for them. Poetry has lost its charm for me ;
e; "especially that species of poetry which unites with the method and symmetry something of the coldness of Art. _ How did you ke Alfieri?” ;
“His language is a kind of Spartan French,” answered welyn, in one of those happy expressions which every now and © then showed the quickness of her natural talent. = ~“Ves,” said Maltravers, smiling, “the criticism is acute. Poor
Alfieri !—in his wild life and his stormy passions, he threw out all the redundance of his genius; and his poetry is but the repre- sentative of his thoughts—not his emotions. Happier the man_ 3 : oe who lives upon his reason, and wastes feeling only on
12?
“You do not think that we waste feeling upon human beings? ee said Evelyn, with a pretty laugh.
q “Ask me that question when you have reached my years, and ~ can look upon fields on which you have lavished your warmest
- hopes—your noblest aspirations—your tenderest affections—and sce the soil all profitless and barren. ‘Set not your heart on the things of earth? saith the Preacher.”
__ Evelyn was affected by the tone, the words, and the melan- -choly countenance of the speaker, “You, of all men, ought not to think thus,” said she, with a sweet eagerness ; “ you who have ‘done so much to awaken and to soften the heart in others—you —who—” she stopped short, and added, more gravely, “Ah,
ips f
~. sternneés, and with an expression of great pain in his compressed
ake i
will refute your own philosophy.”
ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES,
“ Were your wish fulfilled,” answered Maltravers, almost with
lips, “I should have to thank you for much misery.” He rose abruptly, and turned away. “ How have I offended him?” thought Evelyn, sorrowfully ; “TI never speak but to wound him—what save I done?” She could have wished, in her simple kindness, to follow him, and make peace ; but he was now in a coterie of strangers ; and
aS shortly afterwards he left the room, and she did not see him
again for weeks,