Oh! who shall paint the luminous picture of their quiet life, which, to ordinary eyes, was so prosaic and insignificant! In that miserable house, where meanness hourly struggled with adversity, there was a small room, which was parlour, bed-room, and sometimes kitchen, all in one; and from the contemplation of which, when you were told that in it lived a pair who had been reared in luxury and refinement, you would have turned away with painful pity. Yet were the secret history of that seemingly unfortunate pair known, your pity would change into envy, as those four miserable walls changed into a temple of Love, Youth, and Hope.
Poverty—a word of terror—is only terrible to the rich. The poor are not really the unhappy, for happiness is wholly independent of our worldly goods and chattels. If poverty has its hardships, wealth has its annoyances. If wealth can satisfy caprices, when satisfied they do not give the same delight as the cheap enjoyments from time to time indulged in by the poor. All things are precious in proportion to the difficulty of obtaining them, and the very facilities of wealth take from enjoyments their zest.
What makes poverty terrible is its proximity to want. And as want itself is often a thing of degree, the rich imagine that any deprivation of their accustomed indulgences must necessarily be a serious evil. But, in truth, the human mind is so constituted as to adapt itself to every condition, and to draw from its own health the requisites of happiness.
Blanche and Cecil were poor, but they had visions of future wealth and prosperity; meanwhile they had the glorious certainty of mutual affection, which irradiated their humble home, and made each hour of their lives worth more than all Peru could purchase.
CHAPTER IV.
HOW MRS. VYNER WAS BENEFICENT.
One morning while Cecil was in his studio, smoking a cigar and contemplating the sketch of his picture on the easel, with the air of a man who profoundly meditates on the details of a great conception, Blanche was in her room at Notting-hill, making the essence of coffee with a French machine, which they had purchased (unable to drink the incomprehensible mixture Mrs. Tring set before them) when a carriage drove up to the door. Blanche did not hear it, as her room was situated at the back. It was with great surprise, therefore, that she saw her mother and Rose rush into the room, and bound into her arms.
After the first hearty embraces and inquiries were over, Blanche became aware of the condition in which she was found, and blushed. It was not that she herself felt ashamed of her poverty, but she was hurt at the reflections which must necessarily arise in their minds respecting the folly of her marriage; so she hastened, in rather a precipitate and clumsy manner, to assure them how exquisitely happy she was.
"Thank God for that!" exclaimed Mrs. Meredith Vyner. "Then I have nothing to reproach myself with for not having interfered—for not putting a stop to Cecil's attentions—which I very early noticed, let me tell you. The only thing I now desire is to bring your papa round; but he is so obstinate! I do my utmost—but I almost begin to fear that my intercession only makes him more resolved; and I suspect if we were never to mention the subject to him, he would relent very speedily. But depend upon me, my dear, for looking after your interests."
"Dearest mama!" said Blanche, gratefully kissing her.