He was not angry with her for refusing him; in his calmer moments he would have himself predicted such a result to any explanation between them; he had spoken on the impulse of the moment, and could not be surprised at the answer he received. He loved her the better, as well as admired her the more; emotion had given a more lovely hue to her face; and this proof of her purity of principles had added a brighter charm to her mental qualities. He was more thoroughly captivated than ever, and rode home, dreaming of Hilary the whole way;
of the time when he could transport his beautiful flower, now blooming so fairly in retirement, and place it where all would admire his choice, and wonder at his good fortune, and honor his taste in the selection of a perfect wife. For as to failing eventually in the attempt, there was not a fear in his mind of that occurring. There was no rival, and no chance of one; nothing to interfere with his success; and he could exert all the powers of his mind and imagination to win her, undisturbed by jealous passions, unpleasant observations, or the cold interference of worldly customs and reserve. She had promised all should go on as usual, and reliance on her word was as unbounded as his love for her.
Scarcely had her lover left her, when Hilary, sinking on her knees beside the grave of her step-mother, and covering her face with her hands, renewed in a low but distinct voice the pledge she had already given, never to leave her sisters so long as they required her care, never to forsake them, unless she could see them under safer and tenderer guardianship than her own; but to devote her thoughts, her strength, her love, and her life to their and their father’s service.
It was no sacrifice which she resolved on; she was not prompted by any enthusiastic impulse; she did not imagine herself acting a heroic part; she believed that it was simply her duty. The ties knit by Nature, the friends given her by Heaven, the charge imposed on her by God himself, these must surely have the first claim; and till she had discharged these faithfully, she felt she had no right to form others, or to engage in new and uncalled-for duties. Then she raised her head, and with the grateful emotions of a child relieved from danger or trouble by a tender parent, she thanked her Heavenly Father, that he made her duty so plain and so easy, that she had no counter-wishes to struggle against, no affection to subdue, no opposing feelings to torment and perplex her. She was glad, then, from the bottom of her heart, that she did not love Mr. Huyton, and wondered how she could ever have been tempted to wish it otherwise.
At that moment she felt that to love him was impossible, and that to allow him to hope or expect a change was unjust to him, as well as untrue to her own convictions; she repented that she had not spoken more clearly, regretted what she had promised, and resolved to take an early occasion to explain decidedly to him, that the sooner he resigned all his views on her hand, and allowed his love to cool into friendship and good-will, the pleasanter it would be for her, the better and happier for himself. She pitied him exceedingly; she thought it was so very generous and noble of him to love her so; she could not be insensible to such a compliment; and he had shown such forbearance and moderation after her refusal, had been so humble and gentle, so considerate of her feelings, as she fancied, that he deserved to meet with something better than disappointment. She would make no change toward him, she had promised she would not, she would keep his secret, and trust that her calmness and quiet indifference would soon dispel a love which could not live quite unreturned.
But it was much easier for Hilary to promise to make no difference toward him, than to keep her word, although she fully intended to do so; it was simply impossible. A conscious shyness took the place of her former open friendliness; she dreaded being alone with him, carefully avoided sitting near him, dropped her German lessons, gave up her drawing for the indispensable business of making frocks for the school-children, and was uncommonly silent in his company. He saw all this clearly enough, and he saw she could not help it; he did not blame her; he rather loved her the better for the bashfulness which made her shrink from him. It gave more interest to his pursuit; he no longer had the certainty of unchecked intercourse, but there was more excitement, more difficulty, and therefore more amusement as well as novelty. Sometimes he spent a whole afternoon at the Vicarage, without winning from her one open, straightforward smile; or obtaining even five minutes’ conversation, unrestrained by her sisters’ presence.
Any eyes less dim than her father’s had lately become, or
more awake than her young sisters, must have noticed the very great change in their mutual manners; the absolute and unreserved devotion on his part, the shrinking timidity and constraint on hers. Poor Hilary! she would have been very glad had her father noticed these circumstances; she wanted some one to counsel her, to teach her how to escape from the embarrassment in which she found herself; but she could not break her word, and her father saw nothing of what was passing.
However, things came to a crisis at last. Mr. Huyton took it into his head to add cloaks and bonnets to the set of new frocks which Hilary was getting ready for her little scholars. Of course he had a right to do so if he pleased, and Miss Duncan could not have objected, if he had not taken pains to let her know that it was done for her sake, and to please her. What could she do? he had mentioned it to her father, had received his cordial approval, and his ready promise that Hilary should co-operate, and assist his ignorance. She sat by in silence, until appealed to by Mr. Huyton, who suggested that she should take on herself all the active and responsible part of the distribution. Hilary felt that to do so would be giving a tacit encouragement to his wishes, such as she could not conscientiously bestow. If he had only not hinted that he did it for her, it would have been possible; but after that, she could not accept the office.
She replied, gravely, that she would furnish the necessary details, but that she thought Mr. Huyton’s housekeeper would probably be far better able than herself to superintend the purchasing and making up of the articles of her master’s bounty.