"If you will let go my hand I will get you a little of that bottle; I see 'restorative' on it" she added, without a shade of embarrassment, evidently considering my desire to retain it some sickly fancy. I reluctantly relinquished my hold and turning to the table she gave me the medicine and then arranged my pillows in such a home-like manner.
From that interview, the sort of unsettled but ardent admiration I had before entertained for her, seemed to deepen into something purer, higher, more devoted, and unselfish, than I had ever felt before. I looked forward to the possibility of calling her my wife; not with the rash eagerness to possess a new toy, or to give life a new charm, but with a deep rooted conviction that with her at my side, come weal or woe, I would have love and truth and strength there always and unchangeably.
From this time she came over constantly after my host's early dinner, and read aloud, while Mrs. Winter pursued her occupation of knitting; and I lay on my sofa all eye and ear. Winter and the Colonel often joined our party, but the former was too fond of raising questions in opposition to the opinions of whatever author we were perusing.
Miss Vernon generally chose the books she was to read, and I could not help thinking she had some design in her selection; they were generally thoughtful, high toned works, not coming under the denomination of religious literature; but yet setting forth in a strong, though unobtrusive manner, the necessity of faith; the healing power of resignation.
I hinted one day that I could see she intended to convert me; she disclaimed such an intention very eagerly, concluding, "why should I pretend to do so; I am sure you are as good as I am! I consulted Mr. Gilpin about the books, and took what he advised, and I like them too, for I feel they do me good; but I will bring you a novel to-morrow." She did so, and chose Zanoni, excluding Winter from the lecture. I did thoroughly enjoy it.
Miss Vernon seemed to identify herself with its noble thoughts, its wild imaginings, its grand philosophy, and high-souled spirit of self-sacrifice! Her musical voice varying with every sentiment it expressed, and often laying down the book to discuss its character with an interest and affection that invested them with life-like reality: I had glanced over the work before, and put it down with an acknowledgment, certainly, of the author's great genius, but with an idea that it was beyond the scope of my imagination to enjoy. Kate's readings and remarks on it revealed me to myself, and showed me I had aspirations and capabilities for better things: yet it was merely the outpouring of her own heart, and she would have raised her darkly fringed eyelids in astonishment had any one told her she was making a silent revolution in mine.
Poor Mrs. Winter used to listen to our animated debates on Viola and Glyndon, &c., in perfect amazement, and when appealed to by Kate for an opinion, replied with a smile, "Indeed, my dear, I don't know; it's a very curious book, and quite impossible to believe any man could see and know everything the way that Mr. Zanoni did."
Longfellow's poems, then attracting notice for the first time in England, were great favourites with Miss Vernon, and here she and Winter perfectly agreed, for a wonder. These were hours of intense happiness: the exterior world all forgotten, I lived in a fairy-like dream, with just sufficient of earth around me to prove it real; my strength was now rapidly returning, and I began to feel this delicious breathing space from life's ruder joys and ruder cares had lasted long enough. Once or twice I had caught Winter watching Kate and myself as we sat apart rather from the others—she pouring forth her opinions on some favourite author with all her accustomed enthusiasm—I wrapped in contemplation of her, and thinking but little of the subject which engrossed her thoughts.
Winter, I repeat, would sometimes glance uneasily at us as we sat thus, but I always observed serenity return to his countenance, as his eye rested on Miss Vernon.
It soon grew into a habit, that the Vernons and Gilpin should come in every evening; Kate and the Organist taking it by turns to cut into the rubber or talk with me, as I showed a decided disinclination for the society of Miss Araminta Cox, who usually made up the whist table; we had a good deal of music too, my favourite songs were all duly remembered, and all my whims so kindly attended to, I almost regretted that soon no excuse would remain for prolonging my sojourn amongst them. The first day I ventured to walk out, Burton came over from Carrington with a packet of letters, arrived during my illness; there were some pleasant reminders from my solicitors that Messrs. Levi and Co.'s bill would soon be due, and that they kindly offered to renew on exorbitant terms. One or two missives of the same nature; an epistle from Egerton, congratulating me on my escape from the infernal regions, which he seemed clearly of opinion would have been my destination, had not Nature or the Doctor been too strong for Grim Death, and concluding with an exhortation to read the 25th chapter of St. Matthew. "He is worse than ever," was my reflection, as I finished the perusal, "what a Herculean labour I have before me, in the attempt to soften the heart of such a thoroughgoing Evangelical. They always manage to convince themselves that it is for the good of their souls that their pockets should be hermetically sealed against the wants of their brothers. But I must get out of Messrs. Levi's clutches at any cost."