CHAPTER VIL

6 Think you I can a resolution fetch From flowery tenderness ?”— Measure for Measure,
THEY were on the road to Dover. Maltravers leant back in 3
the corner of the carriage with his hat over his brows, though __ the morning was yet too dark for the curate to perceive more than the outline of his features. Milestone after milestone 4 glided by the wheels, and neither of the travellers broke the a
silence. It was a cold, raw morning, and the mists rose sullenly _ from the dank hedges and comfortless fields.
Stern and self-accusing was the scrutiny of Maltravers into the recesses of his conscience, and the blotted pages of the Past.
That pale and solitary mother, mourning over the grave of her— _ of his own—child, rose again before his eyes, and seemed silently
to ask him for an account of the heart he had made barren, and of the youth to which his love had brought the joylessness of
age. With the image of Alice,—afar, alone, whether in her wanderings, a beggar and an outcast, or in that hollow prosperity,
in which the very ease of the frame allowed more leisure to the pinings of the heart—with that image, pure, sorrowing, and
faithful from first_to last, he compared his own wild and wasted__
youth—his resort to fancy and to passion for excitement. He
contrasted with her patient resignation his own arrogant rebellion _
against the trials, the bitterness of which his proud spirit had exaggerated—his contempt for the pursuits and aims of others—
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the imperious indolence of his later life, and his forgetfulness of © the duties which Providence had fitted him to discharge. His mind, once so rudely hurled from that complacent pedestal, ae from which it had so long looked down on men, and said,“I
am wiser and better than you,” became even too acutely sensitive to its own infirmities ; and that desire for Virtue, which he had
ever deeply entertained, made itself more distinctly and loudly — i
heard amidst the ruins and the silence of his pride.
From the contemplation of the Past, he roused himself to — face the Future. Alice had refused his hand—Alice herself had ~ a ratified and blessed his union with another! Evelyn so madly eC _ loved—Evelyn might still be his! No law—from the violation of which, even in thought, Human Nature recoils appalled and | _ horror-stricken—forbade him to reclaim her hand—to snatch her from the grasp of Vargrave—to woo again, and again to win her! But did Maltravers welcome, did he embrace that thought ? Let us do him justice: he did not. He felt that Alice’s resolu- tion, in the first hour of mortified affection, was not to be consid- _ ered final; and even if it were so, he felt yet more deeply that her love—the love that had withstood so many trials—never ‘could be subdued. Was he to make her nobleness a curse? “Was he to say, “ Thou hast passed away in thy generation, and I leave thee again to thy solitude, for her whom thou hast cherished as a child?” He started in dismay from the thought of this new and last blow upon the shattered spirit ; and then fresh and equally sacred obstacles between Evelyn and himself _ broke slowly on his view. Could Templeton rise from his grave, with what resentment, with what just repugnance, would he have regarded in the betrayer of his wife (even though wife but ‘in name) the suitor to his child!
These thoughts came in fast and fearful force upon Maltravers, and served to strengthen his honour and his conscience. He felt that though, in law, there was no shadow of connection between Evelyn and himself, yet his tie with Alice had been of a nature that ought to separate him from one who had regarded Alice asa mother. The load of horror, the agony of shame, were indeed gone; but still a voice whispered as before, _ “Evelyn is lost to thee for ever !” But so shaken had already been her image in the late storms and convulsion of his soul, ‘that this thought was preferable to the thought of sacrificing e Alice. If chat were all—but Evelyn might still love him; and 3 justice to Alice might be misery to her! He started from his 2 reverie with a vehement gesture, and groaned audibly. x The curate turned to address to him some words of inquiry
and surprise ; but the words were unheard, and he perceived, by
the advancing daylight, that the countenance of Maltravers was
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that of a man utterly rapt and absorbed by some mastering ‘and a
irresistible thought. Wisely, therefore, he left his companion
in peace, and returned to his own anxious and engrossing _
meditations,
The travellers did not rest till they arrived at Dover. The
vessel started early the following morning, and Aubrey, who was
much fatigued, retired to rest. Maltravers glanced at the clock
upon the mantelpiece; it was the hour of nine. For him there was no hope of sleep; and the prospect of the slow night was that of dreary suspense and torturing self-commune.
As he turned restlessly in his seat, the waiter entered to say
that there was a gentleman who had caught a glimpse of him below on his arrival, and who was anxious to speak with him. Before Maltravers could answer, the gentleman himself entered, and Maltravers recognised Legard.
“I beg your pardon,” said the latter, in a tone of great agitation, “but I was most anxious to see you for a few moments. I have just returned to England—all places alike hateful to me! I read in the papers—an—an announcement— which—which occasions me the greatest—I know not what I would say,—but is it true? Read this paragraph ;” and Legard placed The Courier before Maltravers,
_ The passage was as follows :—
“Tt is whispered that Lord Vargrave, who is now at Paris,
is to be married in a few days to the beautiful and wealthy Miss Cameron, to whom he has been long engaged.”
“Is it possible?” exclaimed Legard, following the eyes of
Maltravers, as he glanced over the paragraph. “Were not you
the lover,—the accepted, the happy lover of Miss Cameron? Speak, tell me, I implore you !—that it was for you, who saved my life and redeemed my honour, and not for that cold schemer,
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that I renounced all my hopes of earthly happiness, and surren- 7
dered the dream of winning the heart and hand of the only woman I ever loved !”
A deep shade fell over the features of Maltravers, He gazed
- earnestly and long upon the working countenance of Legard.
and said, after a pause—
“You, too, loved her, then. I never en it—never guessed
it :-—or, if once I suspected, it was but for a moment ; and Yes,” interrupted Legard, passionately, “ ewer is my witness how fervently and truly I did love—I do still love _ Evelyn Cameron! But when you confessed to me your affection _—your hopes—-I felt all that I owed you; I felt that I never
have suffered I will not say; but it was some comfort to think that I had acted as became one who owed you a debt never to be cancelled nor repaid. I travelled from place to place, each _ equally hateful and wearisome—at last, I scarce know why, I returned to England. I have arrived this day ; and now——but tell me, is it true?”
_ “1 believe it true,” said Maltravers, in a hollow voice, “ that _ Evelyn is at this moment engaged to Lord Vargrave. I believe it equally true that that engagement, founded upon false im- pressions, never will be fulfilled. With that hope and that belief, I am on my road to Paris.”
“And she will be yours, still?” said Legard, turning away his face : “well, that I can bear—may you be happy, sir!”
_ “Stay, Legard,” said Maltravers, in a voice of great feeling: “let us understand each other better: you have renounced your passion to your sense of honour—(Maltravers paused thought- fully).: It was noble in you, it was more than just to me; I thank you and respect you. But, Legard, was there aught in the manner, the bearing of Evelyn Cameron, that could lead you to suppose that she would have returned your affection ? True, had we started on equal terms, Iam not vain enough to be blind to your advantages of youth and person ; but I believed that the affections of Evelyn were already mine, before we met at Paris.”
“Tt might be so,” said Legard, gloomily ; “ nor is it for me to say that a heart so pure and generous as Evelyn’s could deceive yourself or me. Yet I had fancied—I had hoped—while you 3 stood aloof, that the partiality with which she regarded you was hat of admiration more than love; that you had dazzled her imagination, rather than won her heart. I had hoped that I
should win, that 1 was winning, my way to her affection! But
ought to become your rival. I left Paris abruptly. What I.
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let this pass; I drop the subject for ever—only, Maltravers, only
do me justice. You are a proud man, and your pride has often a
irritated and stung me, in spite of my gratitude. ‘Be more
lenient to me than you have been; think that, though I have my — errors and my follies, I am still capable of some conquests over q
myself. And most sincerely do I now wish that Evelyn’s love may be to you that blessing it would have been to me iz This was, indeed, a new triumph over the pride of Maltravers ©
—a new humiliation. He had looked with a cold contempt on. ~
this man, because he affected not to be above the herd; and ©
this man had preceded him in the very sacrifice he himself meditated.
:
“Legard,” said Maltravers, and a faint blush overspread his
face, “you rebuke me justly. I acknowledge my fault, and
3 4
I ask you to forgive it. From this night, whatever happens, I 7
shall hold it an honour to be admitted to your friendship ; from this night, George Legard never shall find in me the offences of arrogance and harshness.”
Legard wrung the hand held out to him warmly, but made
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no answer: his heart was full, and he would not trust himselt — 3
to speak.
“You think, then,” resumed Maltravers, in a more thoughtful .
tone; “you think that Evelyn could have loved you, had my
pretensions not crossed your own? And you think, also, pardon : me, dear Legard—that you could have acquired the steadiness — of character, the firmness of purpose, which one so fair, so EB young, so inexperienced and susceptible, so surrounded by a 3 thousand temptations would need in a guardian and protector?” —
“Oh, do not judge of me by what I have been. I feel that Evelyn could have reformed errors worse than mine; that her —
love would have elevated dispositions yet more light and com-—
monplace. You do not know what miracles love works! But
now, what is there left for me ?—what matters it how frivolous
and poor the occupations which can distract my thoughts, and
bring me forgetfulness? Forgive me; I have no right to
obtrude all this egotism on you.” -
‘ “Do not despond, Legard,” said Maltravers, kindly; “ there may be better fortunes in store for you than you yet anticipate, —
;
a thin a week you shall hear Onn me. ae that i it ney: sae be mine to realise.
foie not on me so wistfully,” edea Maltravers, with nful smile ; “and let the subject close for the present. Yo
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