And a delightful drive it was, at least to Mary. It would have been so, even under less favourable auspices, with the same happy prospects at the end. A visit to her intended, under his father's roof! But even nature seemed to smile upon her hopes. It was a perfect specimen of an October day, with the balmy and refreshing warmth, sometimes characterizing this period of the year; the sky serene and clear, above their heads, whilst the woods and trees which skirted the roads, along which they so swiftly sped, were still in one rich golden glow.
And it was not for Mary, on this happy day, to think, how there wanted but one chill and wintry blast to lay these thousand glories low.
She naturally felt a little nervous when she was informed they were approaching their destination. The trembling happiness of meeting Eugene for the first time since their last eventful interview, made her heart beat fast—and then there was her introduction to his father, the "strange old man," on whom the impression she should make was to her, for Eugene's sake, of such great importance.
Mrs. de Burgh, in her conversation, during the drive, touched in great measure on the subject of this relative.
She described him as having for years lived a very reclusive life at Montrevor; and thus to have acquired peculiarities and eccentricities, even beyond those which in a degree were natural to his habits and disposition—one of which, by her account, seemed to be an inclination to the most rigid parsimony, and she prepared Mary to see some signs of this in the character of their entertainment upon the present occasion.
"Of course," Mrs. de Burgh added, "Eugene does not much interest himself in amending such matters at present, and indeed during his father's life-time—or perhaps till he married—it was of little consequence to him, and to say the truth, any interference on his part would not have been of much avail, for an old favourite servant has hitherto held sovereign sway over the house. However, it will be all very different some of these days," she added with a smile, "when a Mrs. Eugene Trevor comes into power."
CHAPTER XIII.
I know
She prizes not such trifles as these are:
The gifts she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd
Up in my heart.
WINTER'S TALE.