MR. LANSDOWNE SUBMITS TO THE INEVITABLE.
In the meanwhile, a change had come upon John Lansdowne. Only a few weeks ago, he was a careless youth, of keen and vigorous intellectual powers, satiated with books and tired of college walls, with the boy spirit in the ascendant within him. His eye was wide open and observant, and his ringing laugh was so merry, that it brought an involuntary smile upon any one who might chance to hear its rich peals. His talk was rapid, gay, and brilliant, with but the slightest dash of sentiment, and his manner frank and fearless.
But now his bearing had become quiet and dignified; his conversation was more thoughtful and deep-flowing, less dashing and free; he spoke in a lower key; his laugh was less loud but far sweeter and more thrilling; his eyes had grown larger, darker, deeper, and sometimes they were shadowed with a soft and tender mist, not wont to overspread them before. The angel of Love had touched him, and opened a new and living spring in his heart. Boiling and bubbling in its hidden recess, an ethereal vapor mounted up and mantled those blazing orbs in a dim and dreamy veil. A charmed wand had touched every sense, every power of his being, and held him fast in a rapturous thrall, from which he did not wish to be released. Under the spell of this enchantment, the careless boy had passed into the reflective man.
Stories are told of knights errant, in the times of Merlin and the good King Arthur, who, while ranging the world in quest of adventures, were bewitched by lovely wood fairies or were lulled into delicious slumber by some syren's song, or were shut up in pleasant durance in enchanted castles. Accounts of similar character are found, even in the pages of grave chroniclers of modern date, to say nothing of what books of fiction tell, and what we observe with our own eyes, in the actual world. The truth is, Love smites his victims, just when and where he finds them. Mr. Lansdowne's case then, is not an unprecedented one. The keen Damascus blade, used to pierce our hero and bring him to the pitiful condition of the conquered, had been placed in the hand of Adèle. Whether Love intended to employ that young lady in healing the cruel wound she had made, remains to be seen.
At the beginning of their acquaintance, they had found a common ground of interest in the love of music.
They both sang well. Adèle played the piano and John discoursed on the flute. From these employments, they passed to books. They rummaged Mr. Dubois's library and read together, selected passages from favorite authors. Occasionally, John gave her little episodes of his past life, his childish, his school, and college days. In return, Adèle told him of her term at Halifax in the convent; of the routine of life and study there; of her friendships, and very privately, of the disgust she took, while there, to what she called the superstitions, the mummeries and idolatry of the Catholic church.
When Mr. Somers had acquired strength enough for exercise on horseback, Mrs. Dubois, Adele, and John were accustomed to accompany him. Daily, about an hour after breakfast, the little party might have been seen fitting off for a canter through the forest. In the evening, the group was joined by Mr. Dubois and the missionary. The atmosphere being exceedingly dry, both by day and night, they often sat and talked by moonlight, on a balcony, built over the large, porch-like entrance to the main door of the house.
Thus John and Adele daily grew into a more familiar acquaintance.
During the absence of Mr. Dubois at Fredericton, Mr. Somers announced to John that he felt himself strong enough to undertake the ride through the wilderness, and proposed that, as soon as their host returned, they should start on their journey home.
With increasing strength, Mr. Somers had become impatient to return to the duties he had so summarily forsaken.
He wished to test, in active life, his power to maintain the new principles he had espoused and to ascertain if the nobler and holier hopes that now animated him, would give him peace, strength, and buoyancy, amid the temptations and trials of the future.
John, for several days, had been living in a delicious reverie, and was quite startled by the proposition. Though aware how anxiously his parents were awaiting his return, and that there was no reasonable excuse for farther delay, he inwardly repudiated the thought of departure. He even indicated a wish to delay the journey beyond the time Mr. Somers had designated. A piercing look of inquiry from that gentleman recalled him to his senses, and after a moment of hesitation, he assented to the arrangement. But the beautiful dream was broken. He was thrown at once into a tumult of emotion. Unwilling to expose his agitation to the observation of others, he went directly to his room and locked himself in.
After sitting half an hour with his face buried in his hands, the chaos of his soul formed itself into definite shape. His first clear thought was this,—"Without Adèle, my life will be a blank. She is absolutely necessary to my existence. I must win her". A very decided conclusion certainly, for a young gentleman to reach, who when he arrived at this house, but a few weeks before, seemed to be enjoying a liberal share of hope and happiness. The question arose, Does she care for me? Does she regard me with any special interest beyond the kindness and courtesy she accords to all her father's guests? On this point, he could not satisfy himself. He was torn by a conflict of doubt, hope, and fear. He thought her not averse to him. She conversed, sang, and rode with him as if it were agreeable to her. Indeed she seemed to enjoy his society. But she was equally pleased to converse and ride with Mr. Somers and good Mr. Norton. He was unable to determine the sentiments she really cherished and remained tossed to and fro in painful suspense and agitation.
A couple of hours passed and found him in the same state. Mr. Somers came and tapped upon his door. Unwilling to awaken a suspicion of any unusual discomposure, John opened it and let him in.
"Hope I don't intrude", said Mr. Somers, "but I want you to look at the horse Mummychog has brought for me".
"Ah! yes", said John, and seizing his hat, he accompanied his friend to the stables.
Their observations over, they returned to the house.
"You have had a fit of solitude, quite unusual, my boy", said Mr. Somers, planting his hand on John's shoulder.
"Yes, quite. For a novelty, I have been collecting my thoughts". John meant to speak in a gay, indifferent tone, and thought he had done so, but this was a mistake.
Besides he had in fact a decidedly conscious look.
"If you have any momentous affair on hand, I advise you to wait, until you reach home before you decide upon it, my boy", said Mr. Somers, with a light laugh, but a strong emphasis upon the word, home.
And he passed up-stairs, leaving John, standing bewildered in the hall-door.
"Ah! Ned has discovered it all", said he to himself. But he was too much occupied with other thoughts to be annoyed by it now.
Mr. Somers's last remark had turned the course of his meditations somewhat. He began to question what opinion his parents might have in regard to the sentiments he entertained towards Adèle, and the plan he had formed of endeavoring to secure her love. He knew, they considered him as yet hardly out of boyhood. He had indeed, until within a few weeks, looked upon himself in that light.
Not yet freed from college halls,—would they not think him foolish and precipitate? Would they approve his choice?
But these queries and others of like character he disposed of summarily and decisively. He felt that, no matter how recently he had passed the limits of boyhood and become a man, it was no boy's passion that now swayed his whole being, it seemed to him that, should he make the effort, he could not expel it from his soul. But he did not wish to make the effort. Adèle was worthy the love of any man.
It had been his fortune to find a jewel, when he least expected it. Why should he not avail himself of the golden opportunity and secure the treasure? Would his parents approve his choice? Certainly, Adèle was "beautiful as the Houries and wise as Zobeide". Considerations of policy and expediency, which sometimes appear on the mental horizon of older people, were quite unknown to our young hero.
So he returned to the only aspect of the case that gave him real disquiet. He had fears respecting Adèle's sentiments towards himself, and doubts of his ability to inspire in her a love equal to his own. But he must be left for the present to adjust himself to his new situation as best he can.