Herself! What was it that set her apart, lonely and unloved, from all the human race?
Alma could have loved her mother, and been happy in her mother’s love; but the cold and repellant atmosphere that surrounded the lady chilled and repulsed the maiden.
But Alma loved her unknown father with a love passing the love of woman, and all the mystery that hung over his sudden flight, his long exile, and his uncertain fate, only served to strengthen, deepen, and intensify this love.
Adjoining the library was a small study that had once belonged to her father, but which her mother was never known to enter. Here hung a full length portrait of her father, painted in London soon after his marriage. It represented a man in the prime of his youth, of a tall and finely-proportioned form, Grecian features, fair complexion, falcon-fierce blue eyes, and golden brown hair—a man of whom Alma seemed a small feminine copy.
Into this study Alma removed her work-table, her easel, paint-box, and books. And here, seated in front of the beloved portrait, Alma liked best to employ her mornings in needle-work, in drawing, reading, or dreaming of her unknown father. Her afternoons were passed in wandering by the margin of fair Eden’s waters below the villa, or in roaming through the old woods behind the mansion, and ever dreaming of her unknown father, and yearning for his presence and his love.
Alma was very punctual in her attendance upon public worship, not only from religious principle—though that of itself would have been a sufficient motive to her—but also from the absolute necessity of at least looking upon the human beings with whom she could hold no other intercourse.
After the departure of her governess, she alone occupied the great family pew of the Elvertons, until Lady Leaton, who was then recently widowed, felt compassion for the lonely girl, and availing herself of the privilege given by a slight acquaintance with the Honorable Mrs. Elverton, invited Alma to sit with her family. There seemed to be no possible objection to this plan, and the solitary girl was only too glad to accept the kind invitation and sit with a party of young creatures of her own age and rank. This party consisted now of Agatha and Eudora Leaton, and Malcolm and Norham Montrose.
Alma informed her mother of this courtesy on the part of Lady Leaton.
Mrs. Elverton made no absolute objection, but gravely shook her head and said:
“I have almost ceased to wage a vain war with destiny; yet, girl, I would warn you against one error that to you would be fatal! There are two young gentlemen on a visit to that family; it is their attentions that I would have you shun as you would shun eternal perdition! Beware of the Messrs. Montrose! Beware of all men! for, Alma, love and marriage are not for you!”