For two young people to have lived from infancy together without having ascertained that they were not related to each other by even the remotest tie of consanguinity, would be ridiculous to suppose, and was not the fact, though Mr. and Mrs. Hartland had been silent, and ordered their household to abstain from any communication which might destroy the illusion of brother and sister, which, if established into habitual belief, might never be questioned, and prevent the growth of those sentiments which the anxious parents at last dreaded to anticipate. Blinded by her wishes, as well as natural presumption, Mrs. Hartland had long refused to open her eyes to the possible consequences of her imprudent conduct, in domesticating her only son with the most attractive of her sex, unless she desired a union between them. She saw nothing but the accomplishment of her own views in any arrangement; and even after the warning voice of Mr. Playfair had put her on her guard, thought it only necessary to employ an increased reserve upon the topic of Zoé's origin, to secure against an unfortunate result, and continue to Algernon the happiness of companionship, without endangering his future repose.
"Should a time ever arrive," said the coarse-grained Mrs. Hartland, "when it may become requisite to take stronger measures, it is only necessary to tell Algernon the truth. My son will never disgrace himself by alliance with a gipsey. We can remove Zoé at any time, as I say, Mr. Playfair. I appeal to you, rather than Mr. Hartland, on this point, because he is absurdly fond of the girl, and I often tell him that I am certain he loves that enfant trouvé better than his own flesh and blood."
"If he did not love his ward," replied Mr. Playfair, "he would be less than human. Every body loves her, and when she is called hence amongst her kindred of the skies, the angels will greet her, not as a stranger, but beloved companion, who had been detached from the heavenly ranks for a season, to teach earth better things than mortals could have learned without her. Madam, you know my opinion; I have often told you that the young people are bound in cords of affection for each other, which it will be a heart-break to dissever. Your son may not suffer much; the world lies before him; he will soon go to the University, and find new friends as well as amusements; but not so the gentle, the tender Zorilda, of whose happiness you seem to make small account. May I ask what are your intentions respecting her? She is already a woman in growth, and her acquirements would do honour to any age; believe me, the danger increases daily, and an indissoluble engagement may bind your son in chains, which having forged yourself, you could not desire him to break; you would not have him act dishonourably, and sully his name for ever in the eyes of virtue and delicacy."
"Nonsense! Mr. Playfair," said Mrs. Hartland, with vehemence, "virtue and delicacy indeed! There would be much of these fine qualities required to make me keep my temper, if I feared the fulfilment of your prediction. I must say that, after so many years passed in my family, I might naturally expect that you would enter a little more into the feelings of a mother, and the interests of our house; but truly, gratitude is a rare return now-a-days for the most valuable friendship. I cannot conceive why you should not see the impossibility of a marriage between Algernon, the stay, the support, I may surely add, the heir apparent, of a noble house, and an orphan out-cast. Who is Zorilda?"
Mr. Playfair's cheek burned with honest indignation, but he determined to control himself, and calmly replied:—
"The period of our separation. Madam, is drawing near, and I do not wish to embitter the last moments of sojournment under your roof by useless inquiries into the measure of my gratitude. For kindness I am always acknowledging, but if you allude to my pecuniary obligations, which if I mistake not, take the lead in your estimate of favours conferred, I must beg leave to observe that I have dearly earned my salary as tutor to your son, and may perhaps be presumptuous enough to think that, on casting up the amount of mutual benefit, the balance of debt may lie against you. But we were talking of a worthier theme; you inquire of me, Who is Zorilda? I am sure if you who introduced her here are ignorant of her birth and parentage, it would be difficult for me to have discovered them. I can only say that whoever her parents may be, they are enviable as having given being to such a creature, and pitiable for having lost her. The only particle of rebellion in her whole soul against the wisdom of that Providence to which she bows in all things else with meek submission, may be traced in the anguish which she endures on the score of her mysterious history. Her suspicions have been long confirmed. She knows that she is not your child, and is likewise aware of the obscure destiny from which she was redeemed, through a money price paid by you. 'Alas!' she often exclaims to me, 'what have I done to deserve this cruel punishment? Am I one of those who fall under condemnation for the sins of their forefathers? Why am I a cast-away? Is it like the abundant mercy of a gracious God, who sendeth rain on the just and the unjust with prodigal bounty, thus to visit a guiltless being so severely? Death would be preferable to this brand of disgrace. It is like the mark set upon Cain, and shame overwhelms me when I think of my lot. Yes, dear Mr. Playfair, there is a worm which dieth not, gnawing incessantly at my heart's core.'
"In this way, Madam, does Zorilda pour out her grief to me. You know nothing of it, for she thinks it her duty not to broach a subject which you have never touched upon with her. She is wretched as she is lovely and virtuous! Spare her, I conjure you, and let not her feelings be wounded; you may have to answer for her life. When I leave Henbury, I may be able to devise some scheme for the future. I have a sister who lives in Switzerland, and I will——"
Just as Mr. Playfair uttered these words, the door opened, and Zorilda entered the room, radiant with bloom, such as the breath of morn dapples on the velvet cheek of youth. Her long dark eye-lashes were moistened by a tear, and looked like the silky grass which waves on the streamlet's verge before the sun has smiled away the dew-drop which glitters through its graceful fringes, while with light and gentle step she pressed forward to Mrs. Hartland, holding in her hand a bunch of half-blown roses.
"Here is my first offering from the little tree which Algernon brought me last year, from Marchdale Court; I have kept it secret to surprise dear Mamma."
It was an unlucky moment, and the association of ideas produced by the few words which Zorilda had spoken, was at that instant peculiarly unfortunate. Mrs. Hartland forced a reluctant smile, accompanying a frigid "Thank you," which chilled Zoé to the heart.