Elinor Wyllys Volume I Part 25

"You are right," replied Miss Wyllys, in a faltering voice; and seating herself by her niece, she continued, "He is well. If he is in trouble, it is from his own choice. Have you no suspicions, my dearest child, of what has happened?"

"Suspicions!"--exclaimed Elinor, in astonishment, "what is there for me to suspect? My dearest Aunt, I am more and more perplexed--explain it all yourself--who is it you are concerned for?"

"My only concern is for you, dearest; my only regret, that trouble should have been brought on you by those dear to you--by your grandfather, by myself, by your cousins."

"By you!--by my cousins--what cousins?"

"Harry--Jane--Have you remarked nothing?"

"Harry! what can he have done?"

"You must forget him," said Miss Wyllys; and as Elinor looked eagerly in her aunt's eyes, she read there all that Miss Agnes had not courage to tell in words.

Half starting from her seat, she exclaimed, "Harry!--and Jane too!" and as a deadly paleness came over her face, she fell back, unconscious, on the sofa. Her faintness lasted but a moment; too short a time, indeed, to allow the impression of what she had heard to pa.s.s from her mind. She burst into tears. "Oh, Aunt Agnes!--Is it really true?--Can Harry have changed? can he have been so unkind to me?--And Jane, too!" she exclaimed at intervals.

Her aunt answered only by her caresses, silently pressing her lips upon Elinor's forehead.

Elinor threw her arms about Miss Agnes's neck, weeping bitterly.

"But is it really true? Is there not some mistake? Is it possible he felt so little for me? Oh, dearest Aunt!--and Jane, too!"

Miss Wyllys said that she knew nothing of Jane's feelings; but that the manner of both Jane and Harry had struck her several times as singular; though now but too easily accounted for.

During the last ten days, she had begun to fear something wrong.

"Never, for one second, had I a doubt of either!" cried Elinor.

She now dreaded to receive the letter, she had before asked for so eagerly.

A package had been given by Harry to the chambermaid, that morning, requesting her to place it in Miss Agnes's hands as soon as she left her room. It contained three letters. That to Miss Agnes herself, was full and explicit. He now wrote, he said, because he felt concealment to be no longer possible, after the manner in which he had betrayed himself on hearing of the steamboat accident. He felt convinced that his emotion had been observed by Miss Wyllys, and he almost hoped the suspicions of Elinor had been aroused. He hoped it, for he felt that longer concealment would be unworthy of Elinor, and of himself, since he had not been able to control his feelings. He acknowledged that a frank confession was now due to her.

"I know," he said, "that you will reproach me severely for my want of faith, and I feel that I deserve far more than you will say. But do not think that I erred from deliberate forgetfulness of all that I owed to Elinor. I was for a long time unconscious of the state of my own feelings; and when at length I could no longer deceive myself, the discovery of my weakness was deeply painful and mortifying. You know what has been my situation since last spring--you know to what I have been exposed. Greater caution might no doubt have been used, had I not been misled by blindness, or self-confidence, or vanity, call it what you please. No one can reproach me as severely as I reproach myself.

But although my feelings had escaped my own control before I knew it, yet I determined from the first that my actions should at least be worthy of Elinor. I instantly became more guarded. No human being, I believe, until to-day, suspected my folly. Do not reproach Jane. The fault is entirely with me; Jane has been blameless throughout."

He concluded by hoping that his letter would not for a moment be considered by Miss Wyllys or Elinor, as an attempt to break his engagement, which he was still anxious to fulfil. But he thought that, now the explanation had been made, a separation for some time would be preferable for all parties. He proposed to travel for six months, and at the end of that time be hoped to have conquered his own weakness, and to be forgiven by Elinor.

Bitter tears were shed by Elinor, in reading this letter.

The note to herself was short. He had not the courage to repeat to her directly, what he had said to Miss Wyllys.

"I feel unworthy of you, Elinor, and I cannot endure longer to deceive so generous a temper as yours. You must have remarked my emotion this morning--Miss Wyllys now knows all; I refer you to her. I shall never cease to reproach myself for my unpardonable ingrat.i.tude. But painful as it is to confess it, it would have been intolerable to play the hypocrite any longer, by continuing to receive proofs of kindness which I no longer deserve. It is my hope, that in time you will forgive me; though I shall never forgive myself.

"H. H."

There are said to be young ladies with hearts so tender, as to be capable of two or three different love affairs, and an unlimited number of flirtations, in the course of a twelvemonth; but Elinor's disposition was of a very different stamp. Her feelings were all true and strong; her attachment for Harry little resembled that mixture of caprice and vanity to which some young people give the name of love. With something of fancy, and a share of the weakness, no doubt, it was yet an affection to which every better quality of her nature had contributed its share.

Hazlehurst's determination never to forgive himself for the sorrow he had caused her, was a just one. His fickleness had deeply wounded a heart, warm, true, and generous, as ever beat in a woman's bosom.

Bitterly did Elinor weep, that first day of grief, humiliation, and disappointment. She did not hesitate, however, for a moment, as to the course to be pursued, and even felt indignant that Harry should have believed her capable of holding him to his engagement, with the feelings he had avowed. She answered his note as soon as she could command herself sufficiently to write.

"I do not blame you--your conduct was but natural; one more experienced, or more prudent than myself, would probably have foreseen it. Had you left me in ignorance of the truth until too late, I should then have been miserable indeed. My aunt will take the first opportunity of letting our mutual friends know the position in which it is best we should continue for the future.

May you be happy with Jane.

"ELINOR WYLLYS."

Elinor, at this moment, felt keenly the disadvantages of homeliness, which she had hitherto borne so cheerfully, and had never yet considered an evil. Beauty now appeared to her as a blessed gift indeed.

"Had I not been so unfortunately plain," thought Elinor, "surely Harry could not have forgotten me so soon. Oh," she exclaimed, "had I but a small portion of that beauty which so many girls waste upon the world, upon mere vanity; which they are so ready to carry about to public places--through the very streets, to catch the eye of every pa.s.sing stranger, how highly should I prize it, only for the sake of pleasing those I love! What a happy thought it must be to those blessed with beauty, that the eyes of their nearest and dearest friends never rest upon them but with pleasure! How willingly would I consent to remain plain to ugliness, plain as I am, in the eyes of the world, for the precious power of pleasing those I love!"

Mr. Wyllys and Miss Agnes, of course, approved the step Elinor had taken. They were both deeply pained by Harry's conduct; they both regretted having allowed the engagement to take place so early, and at the moment of Harry's absence. Miss Wyllys, indeed, blamed herself severely for not having used all her influence to prevent it. With her father, on the contrary, indignation against Harry was the strongest feeling.

"Heartless young c.o.xcomb!" he exclaimed; "to dare to trifle with Elinor. I had a good opinion of him; I thought he had too much sense, and too much feeling, not to appreciate Elinor, though her face may not be as pretty as some others. Agnes, he must never be asked to Wyllys-Roof again. I can never forget his treatment of my grandchild."

CHAPTER XVII.

"May this be so?"

SHAKSPEARE.

{William Shakespeare, "Much Ado About Nothing", III.ii.117}

WHILE the family at Wyllys-Roof were in this distress, Miss Agnes had received the parting visit of the Taylors. The porticos of Colonnade Manor rose before closed windows; the house was abandoned for the winter; while Mr. Taylor and Miss Adeline were engaged in putting the finis.h.i.+ng touch to the elegance of No.

five hundred and -----, Broadway, preparatory to the display of the winter.

Mr. Taylor was getting at home in New York. The atmosphere of a large town, thoroughly commercial, was just fitted to his nature.

He had certainly every reason to be satisfied with the rapidity with which he had mounted towards the top of the Wall-Street ladder. He was already cheek-by-jowl with certain heavy men of the place; he walked down Broadway of a morning with "Mr. A. of the Ocean," and up again of an afternoon with "Mr. B. of the Hoboken;" he knew something of most of the great men of the commercial world; and as for the rest of the community, he cared little enough for them or their interests. His house was as handsome and as finely furnished as he could wish, his children were as expensively dressed, as expensively schooled, as any in the land. He had become accustomed to the first burst of luxury, and began already to look upon a hundred things as necessaries, of the uses of which he had been ignorant five years before. He thought New York a commercial paradise; not only the place to make a fortune, but the very spot to spend it in. He wondered at Mr. Hubbard; who could be satisfied to retire from business so early, and was content to live at Longbridge, the village where he was born. Mr. Taylor looked upon himself as already a great man, but he intended to be a greater man still, by a million, or more.

About a week after the Taylors arrived in town, they gave a party--quite a small affair, very sociable, some eighty or ninety people only. The following morning, Mrs. Taylor, fatigued with the toils and cares of gaiety, went to her own room to refresh herself by darning more stockings than usual; while Mr. Taylor, who had laboured hard the evening before by endeavouring to be very 'affable' to some twenty new acquaintances, sought the relief of his counting-house. As he walked down Broadway, his thoughts were divided between two subjects. He had purchased some lots the previous week, which proved so indifferent a bargain, that he was anxious to persuade a particular friend to take them off his hands. He had also just received letter from his son, lately Tom Taylor, now T. Tallman Taylor, Esquire. The young man had made very heavy demands upon his father's banker lately. Mr.

Taylor was perfectly satisfied that his son should spend his money freely, and had given him a very liberal allowance, that he might be enabled to cut a figure among his countrymen in Paris.

But his progress in acquiring habits of extravagance had become of late rather more rapid than was desirable. As he was to return, however, in the course of a few weeks, his father hoped that he would be able to play the dandy in New York at less cost than in Paris.

Mr. Taylor's meditations were interrupted by Mrs. Hilson, who stopped to speak to him as he pa.s.sed; she wished to inquire if Miss Adeline were at home, as she was anxious to see her, having a piece of news to communicate. Having given a satisfactory answer, the merchant pursued his course towards the regions of commerce, at one extremity of Broadway, and the city-lady went her way towards the regions of fas.h.i.+on in the opposite direction.

Mrs. Hilson had already returned to her suite of apartments, and her intimate friend, Mrs. Bagman. At the boarding-house she patronised; and every morning between the hours of twelve and three, she might be seen at the window of the drawing-room, if it rained, or flitting up and down Broadway if the sun shone, generally attended by Captain k.o.c.kney, the long {sic} Englishman, whom she took great pleasure in showing off to the public. On the present occasion she was alone however, and fortunate enough to find Miss Adeline and the French furniture visible, for it was the first time she had been in the new house. The rose-coloured damask, and the pea-green satin of the two drawing-rooms was much admired, and many compliments were lavished upon the gilt clocks, the Sevres vases, &c., when Mrs. Hilson remembered she had a piece of news to share with Miss Taylor.

"And such news--so unexpected to us all; you will be so surprised! The engagement between Miss Wyllys and Mr. Hazlehurst is actually broken off!"

Adeline was not so much astonished as Mrs. Hilson supposed she would be.

"I am very quick at seeing such things," she said. "I was sure it would come to that; though Miss Wyllys did not seem to suspect anything herself. But no wonder--an engagement of two years is too long for anybody. I am sure that in two years I should get tired of the handsomest beau in New York."

The ladies had each their surmises as to which of the parties had taken the first step, and what was probably the cause; but although Miss Taylor had a pretty correct idea of the state of things, she did not express her opinion on the subject very decidedly. Mrs. Hilson soon made her curtsey, expressing the hope that they should see each other very often during the winter; a hope which Miss Adeline was determined not to gratify, for Mrs.

Hilson's standing was not sufficiently fas.h.i.+onable to satisfy her. The visitor had no sooner left the room, than she ran up stairs to put on her last Paris hat, and her handsomest cashmere, and then hurried off to Barclay-Street to enjoy a confidential meeting with Jane.

The young ladies were closeted together for an hour. We have no authority for revealing what pa.s.sed, and can only observe that Jane returned to the drawing-room with a heightened colour, and there was a certain expression of mystery still lingering about Miss Adeline's face.

"Have you any commands for Boston, Mrs. Graham?" the young lady inquired in her usual flippant manner. "I think I shall go there next week, to pay a short visit to a friend of mine; I wish I could hear of an escort."

Mrs. Graham thanked her civilly, but declined the offer of her services.

"Have you really made up your mind to go to Boston?" asked Jane.