Mrs. Gillespie did not press her sister further on the subject just then, for she plainly perceived that altogether it was one in which truly as much of pain as pleasure was commingled. Of course she informed her husband of the occurrence; and Mary too spoke of it as openly as was possible, though the reserve she was forced in a great measure to maintain respecting the substance of the interview, the more confirmed her relations in their suspicions, as to its having been one of no very satisfactory nature.
"And what, as far as you were able to judge, in so short a time, did you think of your intended brother-in-law, my dear Alice?" the husband inquired of his wife the evening after the meeting; "for I know you consider yourself a first rate physiognomist."
"What do I think of him Robert?"—with a sigh—"poor Mary."
"Why, poor Mary, do you not like his appearance?"
"I should not much like to trust my happiness, or that of any one I loved, to his keeping."
"Indeed! he is very good-looking at any rate."
"Yes, handsome certainly—eyes, such as you perhaps have seldom, if ever seen, and which, if they would only look you full in the face, are certainly calculated to do a great deal of execution. But he did not look so into mine; and there was something about his countenance altogether which I cannot explain—something which, though I can fancy it well calculated to make an impression—of some sort or another, over one's mind—I confess on mine—to have been one, which is far from canny. His looks too bespeak him, I am afraid, to be suffering rather from the jading effects of London dissipation, than the gentler pains and anxieties attendant on his situation, as a lover separated from the object of his affection."
Mr. Gillespie looked concerned at this report, feeling a great interest in his amiable young sister-in-law. And though he generally expressed mistrust, with respect to his wife's too hasty reliance on her first impressions, still he was often in the end forced to acknowledge their frequent accuracy.
Yet at the same time, as the countenance of the lover did not in any way alter the case with regard to Mary's position or circumstances, there was nothing to be said or done by her friends whilst awaiting the issue of affairs, but to observe with regret that though with the same meek "patience, abnegation of self, and devotion to others," their sister pursued the even tenor of her way, the cheerful serenity which before had continued to shine forth in her countenance, and characterize her bearing, had departed. Her mind had been evidently unsettled by the rencontre with Eugene Trevor—her heart's calm rest disturbed.
How was it indeed with Mary? Had the hints conveyed by Eugene during their interview depressed her hopes, and re-awakened her misgivings as to the happy issue of the year's probation? Or more bitter still—had anything in that same interview occurred to give that first disenchanting touch, which by degrees detracts from the perfect charm which has hitherto robed our idol, and we see the image of goodness and beauty, whose idol shape we worshipped, melting from our sight, and though still it binds the fatal spell, and still it draws us on, the spirit of our love is changed—a shadow has fallen upon it. We feel it to be "of the earth earthy."