What he had learned and knew respecting Hal Vivian, he treated lightly—contemptuously; nevertheless, the figure of this young “pin-maker” would obtrude itself. Still he brushed the shadowy object from his sight with an impatient sneer, for he had faith in his own attractions; he thought it impossible that a gentle creature so simple, and certainly so impressionable, as Flora could resist him.
As yet he had not had a chance to play off upon her his attractions to win her. That odious Indian bore, as he deemed Mires, with his bright, tiger-like eyes, had always during his sojourn at Harleydale intruded himself just as he had brought up his artillery of glances, soft words, and tender empressement; and again, at the moment he had devised an excellent plan for flinging his Indian rival, the unexpected presence of Vivian, and the events it precipitated, drove him from the scene.
“Out of sight out of mind” was a favourite axiom with him. It was one he invariably acted upon in affairs of the heart, unless, as in the present instance, his personal interest was identified with his passion for the lady.
He, being thus banished from the object of his passionate and pecuniary hopes, reflected that the axiom he adopted as a principle might have a similar influence upon one whom he would rather have unconscious of the existence of the proverb, much less capable of its application.
To render such a contingency impossible, he addressed a letter to Mr. Wilton, penned with a full conviction that it would be laid before and perused by Flora.
It was well done, and admirably calculated to effect its object, if—ah, those “ifs!”—Flora’s love for Harry Vivian had been of a different complexion. He commenced by regretting that any event should have occasioned his premature departure from Harleydale; yet more did he regret the circumstances which had happened, because they were of a character to disturb the domestic peace of Mr. Wilton, and to inflict pain upon the gentle heart of his most charming daughter. He begged to be allowed to express the effect which those events had had upon himself. Here he grew elaborate and diffuse. He declared that he fully comprehended the position in which Flora stood with respect to Vivian. He was aware, he said, that the heart was not at the disposal, nor under the control of the will Love scorned common influences or restraint; he was himself an example of the fact. Until now he had not really understood the difference between loving and liking; until now he was not conscious how consummately predilection and admiration simulated love. In man’s nature this was an incontestable truth—he believed that it had its place in woman’s. He had witnessed and keenly appreciated the amiable sweetness of Miss Wilton’s disposition; he had discerned with pleasure her ready and generous gratefulness for any service tendered to her or actually rendered; he could, therefore, perfectly understand the influence a handsome youth would have upon her grateful sense of benefit received, in having saved her from death in a moment of frightful peril. This generous gratitude took the form of emotion very like love. Yet it was not love—oh, no! love was higher and holier in all its attributes. The emotion he had described was not ineradicable; nay, when its real nature was fairly and rigorously examined, its actual character would be detected. It was no desire of his that Miss Wilton should abate one jot of her gratefulness to Mr. Vivian for the daring act of gallantry by which he had rescued her from a most horrible death: nay, it would be his duty, as well as his pleasure, to respect and to share it even. He had no wish that Miss Wilton should be denied the society of Mr. Vivian whenever her father approved his visits. In short, he had only one desire, and that was to render her happiness, now and in the future, perfect and entire; and he had no fear of not accomplishing this, although Miss Wilton were not united with the present object of her choice.
More than this, indeed, he said, but enough has been given to show the purpose with which his communication was framed.
Mr. Wilton received the epistle upon the morning of the rencontre between Colonel Mires and Mr. Chewkle. He read it with feverish pleasure again and again. Then he rang his bell, and bade the servant who attended to request Miss Wilton to come to him immediately in his library.
Flora, with a beating heart, obeyed the summons. Interviews with her father in his library of late had not been pleasurable to her. He evidently regarded her as a rebel in captivity, himself being the stern judge before whom she was occasionally brought, in order that she might, with frowns, be lectured out of her contumacy. Unfortunately for the purpose he entertained, Flora’s nature was one not to be frowned either into or out of anything upon which she had decided a certain line of conduct was the proper path to pursue, and when he grew angry and wroth, and styled her stubborn, she felt an inward conviction that she was not obstinate, but firm in acting rightly.
On appearing before her father, he commanded rather than requested her to be seated. She obeyed; and then taking up Lester Vane’s letter, he handed it to her.