“NO.”
“She will surprise you. She has less talent for drawing; still, all that teaching could do has been done,—in a word, she is accomplished. Temper, heart, mind,—these all are excellent.” Harley stopped, and suppressed a sigh. “Certainly I ought to be very happy,” said he; and he began to wind up his watch.
“Of course she must love you,” said the countess, after a pause. “How could she fail?”
“Love me! My dear mother, that is the very question I shall have to ask.”
“Ask! Love is discovered by a glance; it has no need of asking.”
“I have never discovered it, then, I assure you. The fact is, that before her childhood was passed, I removed her, as you may suppose, from my roof. She resided with an Italian family near my usual abode. I visited her often, directed her studies, watched her improvement—”
“And fell in love with her?”
“Fall is such a very violent word. No; I don’t remember to have had a fall. It was all a smooth inclined plane from the first step, until at last I said to myself, ‘Harley L’Estrange, thy time has come. The bud has blossomed into flower. Take it to thy breast.’ And myself replied to myself, meekly, ‘So be it.’ Then I found that Lady N——-, with her daughters, was coming to England. I asked her Ladyship to take my ward to your house. I wrote to you, and prayed your assent; and, that granted, I knew you would obtain my father’s. Iam here,—you give me the approval I sought for. I will speak to Helen to-morrow. Perhaps, after all, she may reject me.”
“Strange, strange! you speak thus coldly, thus lightly, you, so capable of ardent love!”
“Mother,” said Harley, earnestly, “be satisfied! I am! Love as of old, I feel, alas! too well, can visit me never more. But gentle companionship, tender friendship, the relief and the sunlight of woman’s smile, hereafter the voices of children,—music that, striking on the hearts of both parents, wakens the most lasting and the purest of all sympathies,—these are my hope. Is the hope so mean, my fond mother?”