“My poor darling,” said I, smoothing her soft hair, “better bear your present troubles than blindly rush into, perhaps, far greater sorrow.”
“Mary,” replied Evelyn, “do not think me childish, but I cannot endure this methodistical house. Besides, I long to see the world—to go to balls, the opera, theatres. Better to be really unhappy than die of ennui. The stormiest sea is surely superior to a stagnant pool. Besides, he is really fond of me. You should have seen how his hand trembled.”
I ventured to interrupt her here, and to suggest that the hand occasionally shook at breakfast, also, when there was no apparent cause.
“For shame, Mary,” she said, (though I do not think she then understood my fears,) “indeed I feel certain he adores me. I shall be petted, and spoiled; I will do my duty, and try to make him happy. Oh! I will be a model wife.”
Tears had already given place to smiles and dimples, on the face of my sweet friend, and the hope of a happier future had brought light to her eyes, and renewed bloom to her cheek. I could not find it in my heart to dash her joy, so I twined my arms around her, reiterating my fervent wishes for her happiness, and adding, that whether for weal or woe, she would ever find a firm friend, and a loving sister, in Mary Mildmay.
CHAPTER III.
THE STEPFATHER
In order that our readers may comprehend the motives by which some of the actors in this our drama of real life were actuated, we must cast a retrospective glance at the past and view our heroine in her infancy, as the only and beloved child of a doting father. Mr. Travers married late in life a pretty, penniless girl, and found himself in failing health with a young wife and infant daughter to provide for. Had this child been a son, he would have been heir to landed estates entailed in the male line, but to a girl Mr. Travers could only leave a sum of money he possessed in the funds, and of this, he settled the half on his widow for life with reversion to Evelyn at her mother’s death; the remainder was left as a marriage portion to the former, or, if unmarried, she was to come into the full control of her property on attaining the age of eighteen, Mrs. Travers acting as sole guardian of her daughter. A codicil to the will, with pardonable family pride, expressed the wish that Evelyn might marry the son of the testator’s half brother, Edward, who must eventually become the possessor of the whole entailed family property. Thus having, as he thought, secured the welfare and happiness of his unconscious babe, the noble father and loyal husband was called to a better and a happier world, where we trust he may hereafter hold sweet communion with his child when the trials and troubles of her mortal life shall be at an end.
Let us now return to our present hero and the lady of his dreams. In consequence of the state of affairs Captain Edward Travers prolonged his stay at the Vicarage another ten days, during which time the youthful pair took daily walks about the grounds we have already described. In the evening they sat indefatigably together, and to judge by the absence of conversation when in the house, I should say they must have exhausted all topics of interest during their morning strolls, for they literally appeared to have nothing to say to each other. I confess to quite a feeling of relief, as I watched the phaeton drive through the large front gates of the Vicarage, en route for the railway station, bearing the young officer away. I hoped that absence would not in this case, “make the heart grow fonder,” but that Evelyn would permit her better judgment to influence her, and perceive she was on the eve of committing an irretrievable folly. I was confirmed in this opinion, on observing the blank look of surprise, even mortification, on her mobile countenance, as she perused her first love letter, an event usually so delightful to a young girl, and then, without a word, placed the interesting missive in the hands of her mother. That lady, it appeared, was decidedly a friend to the absent. She glanced over the letter, exclaiming, as she read it:—
“Dear fellow; how he loves you, Evelyn. See how his hand trembled from excitement; the writing is almost illegible.”