"Dreary and vast and silent the desert of life."
No, rather was she content in doubt, darkness and uncertainty to wait and wander, her hope still fixed upon the distant light in the hazy future.
A position, such as that in which Mary found herself placed—an ill-defined and ambiguous matrimonial engagement—is to a young woman ever, more or less, a misfortune and a trial: something there is in her life
"Incomplete, imperfect, and unfinished,"
comprising also as it must do, much of uncertainty and restless doubt.
The circumstances of Mary's case, rendered hers more peculiarly a subject for such influences. Removed from the sphere in which her lover moved, even their correspondence, after the time just mentioned, entirely ceased; and she heard of him only at intervals—by chance and vague report.
She had longed to have those doubts and repellant ideas, Mr. de Burgh's conversation had insinuated into her mind, cleared away, as she believed they might, by Eugene's own word of mouth. But this had been denied her. She had indeed alluded to the report respecting his brother, which Mr. de Burgh had heard; but Eugene had merely said in reply, that he was taking every measure to ascertain its accuracy; and she heard nothing further on that point.
From Mrs. de Burgh she also ascertained that her cousin Louis had never carried out his proposed expedition, in search of the friend for whom he had professed such warm admiration and interest.
Mary was not so much surprised at this, it being only accordant with her cousin's ineffectual character—warm and affectionate in heart and feeling, but unstable in action and resolve; without self-devotedness or energy in any duty or pursuit, which turned not on the immediate fancy or interest of the moment—something else had probably put the intention out of his head. It did seem to Mary strange and unnatural, that the disappearance of a man such as Eustace Trevor had been represented to her lively and susceptible fancy, should have been so tamely endured by his friends in general, to say nothing of his own brother; but to think on that point was now to raise such a dark and bewildering cloud of ill-defined misgivings, that Mary put it from her mind as much as possible.
There was another point too, on which she indirectly sought enlightenment and assurance. Eugene's mother. Alas! there indeed she had heard enough to make her shudder at the idea connected with much within that house, which she had visited with such pleasure in her unconscious innocence—but more especially with that sinful old man, who, in the garb of venerable old age, had been by her so ignorantly revered; yes, she shuddered to think how appearances may deceive, and shrunk at the thoughts of ever entering again the scene of such wickedness, as long at least as Eugene's father continued there to exist.