Volume Three—Chapter Twenty Five.
Jessie’s Suitor.
Next morning I repeated my visit to Saint John’s Wood. I again saw Jessie. She expressed herself much pleased to see me; but upon her features was an expression that pained me to behold. That face, once bright and joyous, and still beautiful, gave evidence that some secret sorrow was weighing upon her heart.
“I know not whether I ought to be glad, or grieved, Rowland,” said she. “I am certainly pleased to see you. Nothing could give me greater joy; and yet I know that our meeting again must bring me much sorrow.”
“How can this be?” I asked, pretending not to understand her.
“Ever since you left us on the Yarra Yarra, I have been trying to forget you. I had resolved not to see you again. And now, alas! my resolves have all been in vain. I know it is a misfortune for me to have met you; and yet I seem to welcome it. It was wrong of you to come here yesterday; and yet I could bless you for coming.”
“My calling here yesterday,” said I, “may have been an unfortunate circumstance, though not any fault of mine. I knew not, until I entered this house, but that you were still in Australia. Mr Cannon deceived me; he proposed introducing me to some of his London friends who lived here. Had I known on whom we were going to call, for my own happiness, I should not have accompanied him.”
“Rowland, you are cruel!”
“How can you say so, when you’ve told me it was wrong for me to come? Jessie! there is something in this I do not understand. Tell me, why it is wrong for me to have seen you, while, at the same time, you say you are pleased at it?”
“Rowland, spare me! Speak no more of this. Let us talk of other things.”
I did my best to obey her; and we conversed nearly an hour, upon such topics as suggested themselves, until our tête-à-tête was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs H—.
I could not well bid adieu to them, without promising to call again: for I had not yet seen little Rosa.
After my return home, I sate down to reflect upon the conversation I had had with Jessie—as also to seek some explanation of what had appeared mysterious in the conduct, not only of Cannon, but of Jessie’s father and mother.
I had learnt that Mr H—, like many of the Australian wool growers, after having made his fortune in the colonies, had returned to his native land—intending to end his days in London.
I had also learnt that Vane—after that occasion on which he accompanied Cannon and myself, had often revisited the family on the Yarra Yarra; and had become a professed candidate for the hand of Jessie.
In the colony he had received but little encouragement to continue his advances, either from her father or mother. Since their arrival in London, however, Vane had come into possession of some property; and Mr H— had not only listened with favour to his proposals, but was strongly urging his daughter to do the same.
A matrimonial alliance with Vane would have been considered advantageous by most people in the social position of the H— family; and Jessie, like many other young ladies, was likely to be married to a man, who held but a second place in her affections.
Thousands do this, without surrendering themselves to a life of misery; and Jessie H— could scarce be expected to differ from others of her age and sex. In fact, as I soon afterwards learnt, she had yielded to her father’s solicitations, rather than to the suit of the wooer; and had given a reluctant consent to the marriage. It was to take place in about ten days from that time.
I also learnt that Vane and Cannon had quarrelled, before leaving Melbourne. I did not ascertain the exact cause. It was no business of mine; and I did not care to be made acquainted with it. With the conduct of the latter I had some reason to be dissatisfied. He had endeavoured to make use of me, as a means of obtaining revenge against his enemy—Vane.
I could not think of any other object he might have, in bringing me once more into the presence of Jessie.
To a certain extent he had succeeded in his design. Without vanity I could not shut my eyes to the fact of Jessie’s aversion to her marriage with Vane; and I was convinced that, after seeing me, it became stronger.
I was by no means pleased at the idea of being made a cat’s paw for the gratification of Cannon’s revenge; and, next day, when his name was announced at my lodgings, I resolved that that meeting should be our last.
“Mr Cannon,” said I, before he had even seated himself, “will you tell me why you took me to see Jessie H—, when you had reason to believe that neither of us desired to meet the other again?”
“I had no reason for thinking anything of the kind,” replied he. “On the contrary, there was much to make me believe differently. I have a great respect for Mr H— and his family; and I don’t mean to flatter, when I tell you, I have the same for yourself. What harm was there in bringing together those whom I respect? and desire to see friends? But you want some explanation. You shall have it. It is this:—you have seen Vane, and know something about him. I know more of him, than you. He is a conceited, trifling fellow, without the slightest truth or principle in him. True, his society was amusing. I overlooked his faults; and bore with him for a long time. When I saw that he was trying to take advantage of the introduction I had given him to the daughter of my friend—a young lady of whom he is in no sense worthy—I then became his enemy. I acknowledge having taken you to see her in a somewhat surreptitious fashion; and, moreover, that I did it with a design: that of thwarting the intentions of Vane. But I deny having done it as you suppose, because he is my enemy. It was not that; but my friendship to Mr H—, and his family, that induced me to act as I did. While we were on the Yarra Yarra, I could not fail to notice that you were not wholly indifferent to the beauty of Miss H—; and also, that she had the discernment to see, that you were worthy of her esteem. Where was the harm, then, in my bringing you once more together? You are mistaken in thinking, that I was using you to give annoyance to an enemy. On the contrary, I claim to have been only guilty of studying the happiness of my friends.”
To Cannon’s explanation I could make no answer. He was better in an argument than I; and what he had said, left me without any reason to believe, that he knew either of Jessie’s being engaged to Vane, or that their marriage was shortly to take place. From his point of view, I could not much blame him for what he had done.
I had received Cannon with the resolve to have nothing more to do with him, after our interview should end; but he had given me a fair explanation of his conduct, and we parted without any ill-will.
I had promised to call again upon Jessie. It was after my last visit to her, that I had learnt of her approaching marriage with Vane; and, on receiving this intelligence, I regretted having made the promise. I had two reasons for regretting it. To see her again could only add to her unhappiness; and perhaps to me might be a cause of self-reproach.
Nothing but sorrow could spring from our again seeing one another—a sorrow that might be mutual—and, in spite of the promise I had given, I determined we should meet no more.