"Not at all," replied his friend; "you mistake her, John, and me too, and I may add yourself as well. Though Eleanor has given her consent to this arrangement I know her heart is not with it. Do you think I would be disappointing her, or making her miserable, by destroying a bond that would only bind her in a state of abject misery for the entire period of her life? Would I not rather be justified in rescuing her from such a condition? Of course I would. Then that is the reason I object to her marriage with Smithers; for I am certain she would never know a day's happiness from the hour of her union with him. Two natures never were more diametrically opposed to one another; the dove and the hawk might as well be allied as she to him. She all purity, virtue, and innocence; he all licentiousness, vice, and depravity, without the capacity to appreciate so priceless a gem, and I believe without one feeling of regard for her. No, by—I was going to swear; but, never mind, it cannot be, and I say it shall not be; I'll prevent it yet, for I am sworn to it."
"I fear, Tom," said John Ferguson, "you are disposed to judge too harshly of Smithers; Eleanor evidently sees something in him that she admires, or I imagine she would not accept him; so I would beg of you again to leave her to the dictates of her own feelings. Much as I should desire to be blessed by the possession of her hand, I would not attempt it by an opposition to her own inclinations."
"Well, John," replied the other, "I am really surprised to hear you talk so if you love Eleanor, as I am convinced you do. For her sake, as well as for your own, you will save her from the misery of so unnatural an alliance as this she meditates. It cannot but terminate unhappily, for I am sure Smithers' treatment of her will be on a par with his general conduct, selfish and brutal."
"Pray, don't imagine, my dear Tom," continued John Ferguson, "that I am advocating his cause out of opposition to you, or of perverseness to my own interests. I would consider it the acme of human felicity to be possessed of so inestimable a treasure as Eleanor Rainsfield; but, next to the happiness of that possession, my desire is to see her happy. Bearish as Smithers may be, and I believe is, it will be impossible for him to witness the devotion of such a gentle heart as hers without being warmed in the sunshine of her affection. He cannot but treat her with love and respect, for her nature would command them even from the breast of a savage."
"No doubt it would," said Tom, "but I believe that Bob Smithers has not got the feelings of a savage except in his barbarity. But, come John, this won't do; I can't see you perseveringly standing in your own light, and, instead of arousing yourself to exertion, indulging in melancholy reflections. You must be stimulated to work the release of that girl. Why, man, you have lost her through your own supineness. Do you think if I had loved a girl as you have Eleanor, that I would have cared about all the Bob Smithers' in the colony. I would never have ceased my importunities, until I had induced her to look favourably upon me, and condemn her other suitor. You know the saying that the constant dropping of water will wear away the stone; and if I had not worn a hole into her heart, it is a wonder; especially if my rival was such a careless wooer as Smithers; and when once I had got her to prefer me to him, Bob Smithers, or Bob anybody else, might have gone to Jericho for me. I'll bet I'd have soon choked him off; but, my dear fellow, let me see you put a bright face upon the matter, and thrust your foot through 'Bob's affair'; for I am convinced it does not require much to turn the scale in your favour even now, notwithstanding all Eleanor's scruples. The girl must be yours, so take heart."
A sickly smile was the only response Tom got from his friend for this attempt to rally him, but he continued: "Well, look here, John, if you don't exert yourself to avert what I consider a domestic calamity I shall cease to consider you my friend. I never saw one who so pertinaciously adhered to a despondency, without attempting to extricate himself, as you. William tells me you have declined the invitation to Brompton. Now, I must insist upon your going; I'll take you under my especial care, and will engage to bring about something to your advantage."
"I am extremely indebted to you for your sympathy, Tom," said his friend; "but I regret I have a pre-engagement to start for New England before that time; and I fear to delay my journey much longer as the weather threatens to break."
"Now, you know that is all nonsense," said Tom; "I am going down to town myself in a few days, and a day or two will make no more difference to you than to me. I know the object of your refusal, so that excuse won't serve. Why should you desire to avoid the Smitherses or ourselves? It is true Bob has behaved to you in a most ungentlemanly manner, but you need not notice him; the invitation comes from his brother and lady, and you may be sure he will be compelled to treat you with civility. With regard to our party, you need not be under any apprehension; Mrs. Rainsfield, Eleanor, and myself will form our cavalcade, so you may anticipate no unpleasantness by the chance of meeting my brother. While, if I judge rightly, our going ought to be an inducement to you, for of course we shall join to make one party on the road."
"I really can't go," said John.
"I'll hear of no objection," replied Tom; "you must go, unless you wish to displease all of us by your moroseness. Besides, bear in mind that your absence will give Bob Smithers an opportunity of glorying over your defeat. If it is only to oppose him I would urge you to come; and make yourself as agreeable to Eleanor as you can."