I remain your expectant
Fanny.
Fanny Trevelyan's letter had a double effect upon the mind of the recipient. It involved both happiness and despondent gloom, and unconsciously had struck a tender chord which vibrated with redoubled sadness in its deep sympathy.
Why do the waking echoes of the past take cruel delight in presenting to the mind visions which otherwise would be laid aside in a retired recess or a secret chamber sacred to the relics of other days and other scenes? Why are those realities to present themselves in merciless and mocking array to gloat upon our sufferings with fiendish delight? These are questions only to be answered when the causes which call them forth have ceased to exist.
Captain Trevelyan's retirement was the subject of much concern for the officers and men. Many discussions arose as to the motive. Lieutenant Creagh remonstrated, but to no purpose. As the slow sailing ship bore the gallant regiment across the Atlantic, hope reigned supreme in many hearts. Friends and home greeted them on arrival. At Gosport, Captain Trevelyan took formal leave, having received the strongest proofs of sincere friendship existing between man and his fellowbeings.
Great was the joy that awaited Guy Trevelyan as he once more entered the fine old park enclosing the grounds of "Trevelyan Hall." His mother, a staid and stately English matron, forgot all dignity as she threw herself fondly into his arms. Fanny, the pet of the household, clung to her brother with tightening embrace, showering him with kisses pure as her maiden heart. Nor was the dutiful son less tender in his expressions of joy, as lovingly he gazed upon the fair girl seated with her arm upon his shoulder. He could scarcely realize that the little girl of twelve was now the lovely maiden of eighteen almost matured into a gentle and loveable woman. In her sweet childish manner Guy Trevelyan found much to admire. The firm, steady gaze of her deep blue eyes had a power to rivet the attention of the beholder, that puzzled him. He knew from the calm and earnest tenor of his sister's manner that her heart was unfettered by any deeper attachment than those of family ties. In the bitterness of his feelings he thanked Heaven for this fond assurance, fervently praying that the love of his pet sister would never be given where it would never be returned.
He now listened with eager curiosity to the affairs of Lady Rosamond. Her husband had indeed, when too late, listened to her urgent admonitions. He had resigned his seat in parliament when his physical powers were a mere wreck of his former self. Disease had crept in by stealth and was only too truly realized by the deep ravages thus made—by the wasted and emaciated form—the feverish cheek and sunken eye.
The noble sympathetic nature of the dutiful wife felt a severe shock as she daily was brought face to face with the dreaded fact—the awakening reality of her husband's condition. Every care that could be bestowed by the hand of woman was lavished upon Gerald Bereford with unceasing and untiring devotion. No duty was too troublesome, no wish was slighted, except that which urged her ladyship to be more attentive to her personal wants. Every sacrifice must be made that can possibly give returning health and strength to the future lord of Bereford Castle. No bitter repinings now possessed the heroic woman. Her whole being was thrown into the scale to balance the opposing weight which crushed her husband's almost lifeless existence. The voice of one who repeatedly made the halls of parliament ring with deafening applause was now with an effort heard by those standing near.
It was when such trouble bore heavily that Mary Douglas opened her heart towards her friend Lady Rosamond. She came unbidden to offer such service as was in her power to perform. She silently watched by the side of Gerald Bereford with that gentle caution so needful when suffering is apparent, or when an interval of pain or depression is to be guarded against as a thief in disguise.
Not a single expression ever passed between those friends with reference to any thing that happened in Fredericton. Mary Douglas was careful to avoid any allusion to circumstances which might call up a sudden host of by-gone fancies which, ere this, should be consigned to the remotest regions in the realm of utter oblivion. She was now the friend and sympathizer of Lady Rosamond Bereford, not the childish maiden as when first introduced, but a lovely, gifted, talented and accomplished woman, whose mind matured with her years. Time has not lain heavily on her hands, she having labored assiduously in exercising those talents committed to her keeping. In after years we find the following: "Her gifts were so varied that she was both a composer and musician, a novelist and poet." The friend of Lady Rosamond Bereford was not to be affected by the emotions of Lady Rosamond Seymour. The past was a sealed casket, forever sacred to the intrusion of the present. This was the state of feeling that existed between those noble women as they ministered to the wants of Gerald Bereford.