Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/529

516 adventure. In his dream of deeds achieved for her sake, you may be sure the young man behaved worthily, though he was modest when she praised him, and his limbs trembled when the land whispered of his great reward to come. The longer he stayed at Beckley the more he lived in this world within world, and if now and then the harsh outer life smote him, a look or a word from Rose encompassed him again, and he became sensible only of a distant pain.

At first his hope sprang wildly to possess her, to believe that, after he had done deeds that would have sent ordinary men in the condition of shattered hulks to the hospital, she might be his. Then blow upon blow was struck, and he prayed to be near her till he died: no more. Then she, herself, struck him to the ground, and sitting in his chamber, sick and weary, on the evening of his mishap, Evan’s sole desire was to obtain the handkerchief he had risked his neck for. To have that, and hold it to his heart, and feel it as a part of her, seemed much.

Over a length of the stream the red round harvest-moon was rising, and the weakened youth was this evening at the mercy of the charm that encircled him. The water curved, and dimpled, and flowed flat, and the whole body of it rushed into the spaces of sad splendour. The clustered trees stood like temples of darkness; their shadows lengthened supernaturally; and a pale gloom crept between them on the sward. He had been thinking for some time that Rose would knock at his door, and give him her voice, at least; but she did not come; and when he had gazed out on the stream till his eyes ached, he felt that he must go and walk by it. Those little flashes of the hurrying tide spoke to him of a secret rapture and of a joy-seeking impulse; the pouring onward of all the blood of life to one illumined heart, mournful from excess of love.

Pardon me, I beg. Enamoured young men have these notions. Ordinarily Evan had sufficient common sense and was as prosaic as mankind could wish him; but he has had a terrible fall in the morning, and a young woman rages in his brain. Better, indeed, and “more manly,” were he to strike and raise huge bosses on his forehead, groan, and so have done with it. We must let him go his own way.

At the door he was met by the Countess. She came into the room without a word or a kiss, and when she did speak, the total absence of any euphuism gave token of repressed excitement yet more than her angry eyes and eager step. Evan had grown accustomed to her moods, and if one moment she was the halcyon, and another the petrel, it no longer disturbed him, seeing that he was a stranger to the influences by which she was affected. The Countess rated him severely for not seeking repose, and inviting sympathy. She told him that the Jocelyns had one and all combined in an infamous plot to destroy the race of Harrington, and that Caroline had already succumbed to their assaults; that the Jocelyns would repent it, and sooner than they thought for; and that the only friend the Harringtons had in the house was Miss Bonner, whom Providence would liberally reward.

Then the Countess changed to a dramatic posture, and whispered aloud, “Hush: she is here. She is so anxious. Be generous, my brother, and let her see you.”

“She?” said Evan, faintly. “May she come, Louisa?” He hoped for Rose.

“I have consented to mask it,” returned the Countess. “Oh, what do I not sacrifice for you!”

She turned from him, and to Evan’s chagrin introduced Juliana Bonner.

“Five minutes, remember!” said the Countess. “I must not hear of more.” And then Evan found himself alone with Miss Bonner, and very uneasy. This young lady had restless brilliant eyes, and a contraction about the forehead which gave one the idea of a creature suffering perpetual headache. She said nothing, and when their eyes met she dropped hers in a manner that made silence too expressive. Feeling which, Evan began:

“May I tell you that I think it is I who ought to be nursing you, not you me.”

Miss Bonner replied by lifting her eyes and dropping them as before, murmuring subsequently, “Would you do so?”

“Most certainly, if you did me the honour to select me.”

The fingers of the young lady commenced twisting and intertwining on her lap. Suddenly she laughed:

“It would not do at all. You won’t be dismissed from your present service till you’re unfit for any other.”

“What do you mean?” said Evan, thinking more of the unmusical laugh than of the words.

He received no explanation, and the irksome silence caused him to look through the window, as an escape for his mind, at least. The waters streamed on endlessly into the golden arms awaiting them. The low moon burnt through the foliage. In the distance, over a reach of the flood, one tall aspen shook against the lighted sky.

“Are you in pain?” Miss Bonner asked, and broke his reverie.

“No; I am going away, and perhaps I sigh involuntarily.”

“You like these grounds?”

“I have never been so happy in any place.”

“With those cruel young men about you?”

Evan now laughed. “We don’t call young men cruel, Miss Bonner.”

“But were they not? To take advantage of what Rose told them—it was base!”

She had said more than she intended, possibly, for she coloured under his inquiring look, and added: “I wish I could say the same as you of Beckley. Do you know, I am called Rose’s thorn?”

“Not by Miss Jocelyn herself, certainly!”

“How eager you are to defend her! But am I not—tell me—do I not look like a thorn in company with her?”

“There is but the difference that ill health would make.”

“Ill health? Oh, yes! And Rose is so much better born.”

“To that, I am sure, she does not give a thought.”