“How changed!” thought Colin as his spirit absolutely shrank at the first sight of her. “How like a creature whose heart is gone,—all whose ties to the world are rapidly loosening, and who soon must be caught back to the earth, or the chance will be lost for ever.” In her face was written, as all might read, that the past was all of a pleasant existence she should ever look upon.
Yet when she saw him,—though all the family was around,—though all eyes were upon her,—though the father looked solemn, and the mother half chidingly; she at once flew towards him with the joy of a lark upwards. For what was all the world besides,—its thoughts, and sayings, and opinions,—what were they now to her? Nature was nature in her bosom,—pure, frank, and virtuous; and her feelings those which Heaven had planted there for the wisest, the best, and the happiest purposes.
At this affecting sight her mother sobbed aloud; Mr. Calvert turned away, and pressed the tears back into his eyes in silence. Her sister seized her hands in hers, and as she pressed them with a loving pressure entreated her to be composed. Her elder brother sat mute, looking seriously on the floor; while honest Roger, himself, with the tears bursting from his eyes, struck his hand upon the table, in a sudden agony of goodwill, and exclaimed,
“She shall have him, I say!”
The plainness and oddity of this declaration contrasted so comically with the occasion upon which it was made, that scarcely a single person present could forbear smiling; while, certain it is, that every one, not excepting even the most obstinately opposed to that event, felt a sudden conviction that Roger's words would somehow or other eventually come true.
But as suddenly as that conviction flashed across the mind, so, with respect to Mr. and Mrs. Calvert, did it as suddenly again cease. For though, during some few brief moments of promise which the temporary excitement of their feelings had produced, they felt half inclined to relent, and to endeavour to make the best of those circumstances which it seemed in vain any longer to oppose; yet, as the cause of that sudden conversion lost its temporary influence, they fell back upon former old objections with almost increased prejudice; just as in many other cases people will adopt a new doctrine for awhile, but when the particular circumstances that caused them to do so are removed, will as surely return with additional liking to their old and familiar opinions.
Long and curiously did these two afterwards discuss the matter, and how finally it should be settled; while Colin and Jane, with a far less expenditure of sage remarks and clever suggestions, were rapidly settling it in good earnest without any discussion at all. There were no “pros” and “cons” with them; no question about conventional proprieties; nor any considerations as to what the world might, or might not think, in reference to them. Enough for Jane that Colin was, in his own person and mind, all that a young man should be, to be loveable and deserving of love; and for Colin, that Jane seemed to merit more than the utmost of what it was possibly in his power to bestow.
While the last named pair regarded the question as altogether one of the heart, and into which no other conceivable interest should be allowed to intrude, the parents of Jane held it as totally a question of the head, or imagined right or wrong, and of propriety or impropriety, so far as the maintenance or the sacrifice of their own peculiar opinions might possibly be involved. But inasmuch as even the worst philosopher may venture most safely to back the heart against the head in any contention of the kind here spoken of, the reader will not feel surprised to learn that Colin and Jane would certainly have triumphed, had it not unluckily happened that some time before their forces could be brought perfectly to bear, Mr. Calvert one day sent a message to Colin, requesting his company in the former gentleman's study, and on his appearance delivered to him the following very disheartening and painful speech:—
“After what has occurred, Mr. Clink, since your return to town, and from the scene it was our painful fortune to witness between you and my daughter on your arrival here, I feel a firm conviction, which every day serves to strengthen, that the time has arrived when it becomes my duty as a father to come to some positive and decisive determination in this matter. Much as I respect Mr. Lupton, for notwithstanding his deep indiscretions, upon which it is not my duty to pronounce any judgment, I yet know him to be in many respects most highly deserving of esteem; and worthy and deserving a young man as I certainly think you yourself to be, yet there are causes which from the first made me fearful, when I found your preference for Jane, that a continued acquaintance between you could not lead to any happiness. I shall not allude to those causes in any more direct manner, for you probably can judge sufficiently what I mean, without the necessity for any more explicit statement.”