CHAPTER XXIII.
I never thought a life could be
So flung upon one hope, as mine, dear love, on thee.
N. P. WILLIS.
No sooner did old Mr. Majoribanks learn from the rector that he had prevailed upon Mr. Temple to fix his residence amongst them, than he was anxious to pay the stranger every possible attention and civility, calling upon him to invite him to dinner, or do anything that might contribute in any way to his comfort and happiness. But Mr. Wynne was obliged to subdue this impulse of hospitality, making the good old gentleman and his family to understand that Mr. Temple being driven, by some heavy private affliction, to the alleviation of his sorrows by solitude and seclusion, the kindest thing would be, for the present, till the poignancy of his feelings should be softened by time, to refrain as much as possible from crossing his wishes in this respect. The inmates of Glan Pennant, in the most delicate manner, respected and carried out these instructions; so that, by some gentle and gradual attraction, rather than by any outward effort on their part, did the recluse seem finally drawn towards them in more close and intimate communication; till finally, he became not only, as at first—the silent and secret minister to all those little schemes of charity and benevolence the young ladies had so much at heart—but also their personal assistant and supporter.
Often during the time they were thus thrown intimately together, did Mr. Wynne, like others perhaps besides, think it could not be but that the lovely Selina Seaham, the flower of Glan Pennant, as the good clergyman was wont to call her, would charm away the sorrows of that noble heart; and as for the impression Edward Temple might make on that young lady, he thought it was a case decided. However it might have been on that latter point, we have seen that our hero's heart escaped the predicted spell—although in other ways he might esteem and admire the fair lady—and how another charm had secretly enthralled him.
It had been in no slight degree startling to Eustace Trevor to discover the relationship existing between the Seahams and his friend de Burgh; and at first it had nearly determined him to leave the place, lest in any way this fact should tend to his betrayal. But Mr. Wynne soon made it his business to ascertain for his satisfaction that no such chance existed.
Glan Pennant was not visited by any of the young ladies' relations, and never had been for many years. Even the wedding of the last married sister had been unattended by any of them, and indeed it was very rare that regular visitors of any sort came to the place. Sir Hugh Morgan occasionally had a friend or two in a bachelor way, whose society was not much in his line, or likely to consist of any of Eustace's former acquaintance, being generally natives of his own country.
So far Eustace Trevor's mind was set at rest, though still the fact of the relationship haunted his fancy as a strange striking coincidence. Little did he divine all that this coincidence was destined farther to comprise. Little did he conceive when in his solitary rambles after his settlement at Ll—— he sometimes chanced to meet that young and gentle girl, who had so attracted his interest and attention that first Sunday in the gallery of the church; sometimes tracking with fond alacrity the footsteps of her brother to some lake or mountain stream—or seated in some shady dell, or on some heathy hill, with her sweet smile and dreamy eyes bent upon her book—or plunged in pensive reverie—little did he divine what dream, or rather the mere shadow of a dream, his appearance might chance to dissipate.