“Miss Duncan mentioned no names to me,” said he; “she only informed me to-day, that you were to be united to a countryman of ours.”
“Oh, Hilary, of all people, has reason to know better; for though I never mentioned Mr. Legh by name to her, she knew Charles was not my futur. Perhaps if you had seen them together, you would have known it too.”
“Seen who together?” asked Captain Hepburn, with a countenance of extreme self-command, which baffled, by its quietness, the scrutiny of Victoria’s bright eyes.
“My cousin and Miss Duncan! She will not engage herself at present, because of her father and sisters; she devotes herself to them; but that kind of thing will not last forever; and though one has no right to speculate on a young lady’s feelings, in spite of her saying no, I suspect Charles’s constancy is making way with her, and will meet with its reward in time. Meantime, I say nothing to her on the topic.”
Captain Hepburn was a brave man, one who had met peril unflinchingly, and dared death in a good cause. His nerves were under perfect control; and one reason, probably, of the influence he exercised over those about him, was that he had learned, before commanding others, to command himself. Whatever his feelings were on hearing this declaration from his companion, he betrayed none of them; and after a little pause, he asked, in a quiet tone, devoid of all trace of emotion,
“Do you mean that Miss Duncan refused your cousin, when he offered his hand?”
“Yes; but that was nearly a year ago, and there has been, I
suspect and hope, a gradual change working since that. She was very young then, and had never thought of marrying, and her father’s blindness was just ascertained, and was a great shock to her, so she thought she should never leave him, and would not listen to Charles; but he is very persevering and patient—quite a model of a lover; and as her sisters get old enough to take her place, and other feelings for other people arise, she will retract. As to my cousin, he, I am sure, will never change.”
Victoria did not intend to do any harm by what she had said: she really believed that, in promoting a union between her cousin and Hilary, she was acting as kindly by one as the other, and her assertions were strictly true. She thought he was gaining ground, and fancied that if she could only keep away rivals, his interests would be safe; time and constancy, a better knowledge of his value, and a more thorough appreciation of the honor his love did its object, would alter her opinions, and change her tone.
His value she hoped to assist in demonstrating by showing him to Hilary as the center of attraction, the admired, courted, popular master of “the Ferns;” and the distinction which his notice conferred on her in that party would perhaps induce her to consider that it would be worth while to become his wife. It was very natural that she should imagine this; she judged, as all must do, by her own feelings, and set before her friend the temptations which would have had most influence with herself.