That was one point gained, at least! It was settled, thenceforth and forever, that there was no reason on earth why he should not fall in love with Blanche Delaware, if he liked it. By the way, men very seldom get so far as that without being somewhat in love already. Few people think of attacking a fort without being in the army. The next step to be taken by a reasonable man--and Burrel was one of those people whose natural inclination to act by impulse was so strong, that he was very anxious, on all occasions, to give impulse a good reason, lest she should act without one, and then laugh at him for his pains--the next step to be taken, was to find some good and legitimate cause, altogether independent of passion, why such a cool and considerate person as Henry Burrel looked upon Henry Burrel to be--and which he really was by habit, though not by nature--should fall in love with Blanche Delaware; and as it is not very easy mathematically to find a sufficient cause for falling in love at all, Burrel was obliged to proceed cautiously in the matter, from axiom to postulate, and so on.
He accordingly set himself to think over all he had seen of Blanche Delaware; and he did not find it in the least difficult to imagine, to assume, to demonstrate, that she had plenty of high qualities (independent of her beauty) to make her a desirable wife for any man. He next considered the question of marriage in the abstract, and was naturally led to conclude, with St. Paul, as cited by the Book of Common Prayer, that it is a state honorable among all men. All these steps being taken, he next looked into his own condition, and found that marriage might do him a great deal of good, and could do him very little harm. Then putting the points already gained in relative position with his own situation, he deduced the following:--Marriage is good and honorable in all men; marriage in his own case was peculiarly advisable; and Blanche Delaware was peculiarly eligible for any man as a wife.
So far all was fair and prosperous, and he was like a ship with full sails and favorable wind, dancing over a sunny sea toward the port of matrimony; and a very comfortable port, too, let me tell you. However, there was still one little obstacle to be got over, which the reader, unless he be an undergraduate, will never divine. The fact is, that no man who has been long at either of the two learned universities can bear the idea of falling in love. He looks upon it as a sort of disgrace; and Burrel, who was of Christ Church, would not admit for a moment that he was the least little bit in love in the world. At the same time, with that sort of odd perversity which, on some subject or another, is to be found in the breast of every one, he had no idea of any one marrying without being in love, unless, indeed, some point of honor or propriety required it. This latter opinion came, of course, from reading novels, and romances, plays, poetry, and rich trash; and in his course through the world hitherto, these contending principles, always in opposition to each other, had kept him safe, sound, and unmarried, up to the respectable period of seven-and-twenty years. His Master of Arts degree had acted as a shield to his heart from the many arrows which had been directed against it; and a romantic disposition had guarded him against that sort of abstract matrimony which is undertaken without love.
"He was an odd man, this Mr. Henry Burrel!"
"He was so, sir! Just such another bundle of contrarieties as you or I, or any one else. We are all odd men, if you look at us closely."
The simple fact of Burrel's situation at that moment was merely this--He was not over head and ears in love with Blanche Delaware. He had not had time, sir! A man does not fall in love by steam! No; but he had at least advanced two or three steps in that quagmire, and he was not very likely to get out of it in a hurry. If any one who reads this book--and pray heaven they may be many!--have ever ridden a thorough-bred horse over a shaking moor, he will have seen that the animal, at the first two or three steps over the boggy ground, trembles at every limb, and if you let him, he will sink to a certainty. Your only way is to stick your spurs into his sides, keep a light hand and his head up, and gallop as hard as you can till you get upon firm ground. Now Burrel felt very much inclined to gallop. He got a little frightened at his situation, especially when he found himself stringing together so many reasons for marrying Blanche Delaware, and it was even betting, whether he staid to fall in love, or got into the ten o'clock stage, and dined in London.
The way that Love got over it was as follows: Burrel began to think about the events of the foregoing night, and the remembrance of saving the life of Blanche Delaware; and carrying her out through the flames in his arms, was, of course, too pleasant a little spot for memory not to pause upon it agreeably. The flickering blush, also, which had risen in her cheek when she had seen him afterward, rose up sweetly; and his next thought was to consider whether it would be more delicate again to apologize for entering her chamber in the middle of the night, or to leave it in silence, and never mention it at all. That was soon settled; but he then thought, "The story will, of course, be told about the country--ay, and with additions and improvements, which may, very likely, injure that sweet girl, and will, at all events, hurt her feelings if she should hear them. I would not have it so for a world--and yet what can one do to prevent it!"
At that moment, connecting itself with the blush, by one of those fine invisible links of thought which defy all grasp, for who can
"Trace to its cloud the lightning of the mind?"--
At that moment the few words he had spoken, at the top of the stone staircase, when he first found they were in safety--the outpouring of joy which had sparkled over the lip of the cup--the "Dear girl you are safe!"--were gathered up by memory, and held up to his sight; and Burrel, who was a gentleman, and considered the point of honor more sacred and more delicate toward a woman than even toward a man, believed that he said too much not to say more, if he found that to say it would not offend.