But the impression was made, and it was not favorable. With keen acuteness Mrs. Hazleton watched every look, and every turn of the conversation; and seeing that the course of things had begun ill for her purposes, she very soon proposed to order the carriage and return; resolving to take, as it were, a fresh start on the following day. She did not then ask young Ayliffe to dine at her house, as she had, at first, intended; but was well pleased, notwithstanding, to see him mount his horse in order to accompany them on the way back; for she had remarked that his horsemanship was excellent, and well knew that skill in manly exercises is always a strong recommendation in a woman's eyes. Nor was this all: decidedly handsome in person, John Ayliffe had, nevertheless, a certain common—not exactly vulgar—air, when on his feet, which was lost as soon as he was in the saddle. There, with a perfect seat, and upright, dashing carriage, managing a fierce, wild horse with complete mastery, he appeared to the greatest advantage. All his horsemanship was thrown away upon Emily. If she had been asked by any one, she would have admitted, at once, that he was a very handsome man, and a good and graceful rider; but she never asked herself whether he was or not; and, indeed, did not think about it at all.
One thing, however, she did think, and that was not what Mrs. Hazleton desired. She thought him a coarse and vulgar-minded young man; and she wondered how a woman of such refinement as Mrs. Hazleton could be pleased with his society. There was at the end of that day only one impression in his favor, which was produced by an undefinable resemblance to her father, evanescent, but ever returning. There was no one feature like: the coloring was different: the hair, eyes, beard, all dissimilar. He was much handsomer than Sir Philip Hastings ever had been; but ever and anon there came a glance of the eye, or a curl of the lip; a family expression which was familiar and pleasant to her. John Ayliffe accompanied the carriage to the gate of Mrs. Hazleton's park; and there the lady beckoned him up, and in a kind, half jesting tone, bade him keep himself disengaged the next day, as she might want him.
He promised to obey, and rode away; but Mrs. Hazleton never mentioned his name again during the evening, which passed over in quiet conversation, with little reference to the events of the morning.
Before she went to bed, however, Mrs. Hazleton wrote a somewhat long epistle to John Ayliffe, full of very important hints for his conduct the next day, and ending with an injunction to burn the letter as soon as he had read it. This done, she retired to rest; and that night, what with free mountain air and exercise, she and Emily both slept soundly. The next morning, however, she felt, or affected to feel, fatigue; and put off another expedition which had been proposed.
Noon had hardly arrived, when Mr. Ayliffe presented himself, to receive her commands he said, and there he remained, invited to stay to dinner, not much to Emily's satisfaction; but, at length, she remembered that she had letters to write, and, seated at a table in the window, went on covering sheets of paper, with a rapid hand, for more than an hour; while John Ayliffe seated himself by Emily's embroidery frame, and labored to efface the bad impression of the day before, by a very different strain of conversation. He spoke of many things more suited to her tastes and habits than those which he had previously noticed, and spoke not altogether amiss. But yet, there was something forced in it all. It was as if he were reading sentences out of a book, and, in truth, it is probable he was repeating a lesson.
Emily did not know what to do. She would have given the world to be freed from his society; to have gone out and enjoyed her own thoughts amongst woods and flowers; or even to have sat quietly in her own room alone, feeling the summer air, and looking at the glorious sky. To seek that refuge, however, she thought would be rude; and to go out to walk in the park would, she doubted not, induce him to follow. She sat still, therefore, with marvellous patience, answering briefly when an answer was required; but never speaking in reply with any of that free pouring forth of heart and mind which can only take place where sympathy is strong.
She was rewarded for her endurance, for when it had lasted well nigh as long as she could bear it, the drawing-room door opened, and Mr. Marlow appeared. His eyes instantly fixed upon Emily with that young man sitting by her side; and a feeling, strange and painful, came upon him. But the next instant the bright, glad, natural, unchecked look of satisfaction, with which she rose to greet him, swept every doubt-making jealousy away.
Very different was the look of Mrs. Hazleton. For an instant—a single instant—the same black shadow, which I have mentioned once before, came across her brow, the same lightning flashed from her eye. But both passed away in a moment; and the feelings which produced them were again hidden in her heart. They were bitter enough; for she had read, with the clear eyesight of jealousy, all that Marlow's look of surprise and annoyance—all that Emily's look of joy and relief—betrayed.
They might not yet call themselves lovers—they might not even be conscious that they were so; but that they were and would be, from that moment, Mrs. Hazleton had no doubt. The conviction had come upon her, not exactly gradually, but by fits, as it were—first a doubt, and then a fear, and then a certainty that one, and then that both loved.
If it were so, she knew that her present plans must fail; but yet she pursued them with an eagerness very different than before—a wild, rash, almost frantic eagerness. There was a chance, she thought, of driving Emily into the arms of John Ayliffe, with no love for him, and love for another; and there was a bitter sort of satisfaction in the very idea. Fears for her father she always hoped might operate, where no other inducement could have power, and such means she resolved to bring into play at once, without waiting for the dull, long process of drilling Ayliffe into gentlemanly carriage, or winning for him some way in Emily's regard. To force her to marry him, hating rather than loving him, would be a mighty gratification, and for it Mrs. Hazleton resolved at once to strike; but she knew that hypocrisy was needed more than ever; and therefore it was that the brow was smoothed, the eye calmed in a moment.