Hearts Afire (9 page)

“Then we must part,
my Charlotte
, for a little. When will you come
again?”

This was a painful question, because Charlotte felt, that, however she might
excuse herself for the unforeseen stress of pity that all unaware had hurried
her into this interview, she knew she could not find the same apology for one
deliberate and prearranged.

“Only once more,”
Harleigh
pleaded. “I have, my
Charlotte, so many things to say to you. In my joy, I forgot all. Come but once
more.”

“Two days hence I will come again. Then no more.”

He smiled at her, and put out his hands; and she
knelt again by his side, and kissed her “farewell” on his lips. And, as she put
on again her cloak and veil, he drew a small volume towards him, and with
trembling hands tore out of it a scrap of paper, and gave it to her.

Under the lilac hedge that night she read it, read it over and over,—the bit
of paper made almost warm and sentient by his tender petition to his beloved,—

“
When you are in company with that other man, behave as if you were
absent; but continue to love me by day and by night; want me, dream of me,
expect me, think of me, wish for me, delight in me, be wholly with me; in
short, be my very soul, as I am yours.”

 
“
Let determined things to destiny
Hold
unbewailed
their way.
”

If Charlotte had lived at this day, she would probably have spent her time
between her promise and its fulfillment in self-analysis and introspective
reasoning with her own conscience. But the women of a century ago were not
tossed about with winds of various opinions, or made foolishly subtle by
arguments about principles which ought never to be associated with dissent. A
few strong, plain dictates had been set before Charlotte as the law of her
daily life; and she knew, beyond all controversy, when she disobeyed them.

In her own heart, she called the sin she had determined to commit by its
most unequivocal name. “I shall make happy
Harleigh
;
but my father I shall deceive and disobey, and against my own soul there will
be the lie.” This was the position she admitted, but every woman is Eve in some
hours of her life. The law of truth and wisdom may be in her ears, but the
apple of delight hangs within her reach, and, with a full understanding of the
consequences of disobedience, she takes the forbidden pleasure. And if the
vocal, positive command of Divinity was unheeded by the first woman, mere
mortal parents surely ought not to wonder that their commands, though dictated
by truest love and clearest wisdom, are often lightly held, or even impotent
against the voice of some charmer, pleading personal pleasure against duty, and
self-will against the law infinitely higher and purer.

There are women who prefer secrecy to honesty, and sin to truthfulness; but
Charlotte was not one of them. If it had been possible to see her lover
honorably, she would have much preferred it. She was totally destitute of that
contemptible sentimentality which would rather invent difficulties in a
love-affair than not have them, but she knew well the storm of reproach and
disapproval which would answer any such request; and her thoughts were all bent
toward devising some plan which would enable her to leave home early on that
morning which she had promised her lover.

But all her little arrangements failed; and it was almost at the last hour
of the evening previous, that circumstances offered her a reasonable excuse. It
came through
Joris
Morgan, who returned home later
than usual, bringing with him a great many patterns of damask and figured cloth
and stamped leather. At once he announced his intention of staying at home the
next morning in order to have
Lysbet's
aid in
selecting the coverings for their new chairs, and counting up their cost. He
had taken the strips out of his pocket with an air of importance and
complaisance; and Charlotte, glancing from them to her mother, thought she
perceived a fleeting shadow of a feeling very much akin to her own contempt of
the man's pronounced self-satisfaction. So when supper was over, and the house
duties done, she determined to speak to her mother.

“Let me go away in the morning. Father dotting about the chairs I cannot
bear. Listen, how he will talk: 'See here, Charlotte. A fine piece is this; ten
shillings and sixpence the yard, and good enough for the governor's house. But
I am a man of some substance,—and fine chairs I will have'
Mother
, you
know how it will be. Tomorrow I cannot bear him. Very near quarreling have we
been for a week.”

“I know, Charlotte, I know. Leave, then, and go first to the “Universal
Store” of Lady Denham, and ask her if the new fashions will arrive from London
this month. I heard also that Mary
Blankaart
has lost
a silk purse, and in it five gold pieces, and some half and quarter silver. Ask
kindly for her, and about the money; and so the morning could be passed. And
look now, Charlotte, peace is the best thing for this house.”

“That will make me glad.”

“Surly it shall.”

“
My mother
, sad and troubled are thy looks. What is thy sorrow?”

“For thee my heart aches often,—mine and thy good father's, too. Dost thou
not suffer? Can thy mother be blind? Nothing hast thou eaten lately. Father
says thou art restless all the night long. Thou art so changed then, that were
ever such a happy little one. Once thou did love me, Charlotte.”

“
Mother
, still I love thee!”

“But what of the young man,
Harleigh
Daly?”

“Never can I cease to love him. See, now, the love I give him is his love.
It never was
thine
. For him I brought it into the
world. None of thy love have I given to him.
My mother
, thee I would not
rob for the whole world; not I!”

“For all that,
Charlotte
, hard is the mother's lot. The dear child I
nursed on my breast, they go here and they go there, with this strange one and
that strange one. Last night, ere to our sleep we went, thy father read to me
some words of a book they are true words. Every good mother has said them, at
the grave or at the bridal, “we shall lose our daughters!'“

The next morning was one of perfect beauty, and Charlotte awoke with a
feeling of joyful expectation. She dressed beautifully her pale brown hair; and
her intended visit to Mary
Blankaart
gave her an
excuse for wearing her India silk,—the pretty dress
Harleigh
had seen her first in, the dress he had so often admired. Her appearance caused
some remarks, and with much of her old gayety Charlotte walked between her
father and mother away from home.

She paid a very short visit to the mantua-maker, and then went to Mistress
Gordon's. There was less effusion in that lady's manner than at her last
interview with Charlotte. She had a little spasm of jealousy; she had some
doubts about Charlotte's deserts; she wondered whether
Harleigh
really adored the girl with the
fervour
he affected,
or whether he had determined, at all sacrifices, to prevent her marriage with
Sir Edward
Semple
. Charlotte had never before seen
her so quiet and so cool; and a feeling of shame sprang up in the girl's heart.
“Perhaps she was going to do something not exactly proper in Mistress Gordon's
eyes, and in advance that lady was making her sensible of her contempt.”

With this thought, she rose, and with burning cheeks said, “I will go home,
madam. Now I feel that I am doing wrong. To write to
Harleigh
will be the best way.”

“Pray don't be foolish, Charlotte. I am of a serious turn this
morning, that
is all. How pretty you are! And how vastly
becoming your gown! But, indeed, I am going to ask you to change it. Yesterday
at the “King's Arms,” I said my sister would arrive this morning with me; and I
bespoke a little
cotillon
in
Harleigh's
rooms. In that dress you will be too familiar, my dear. See here, is not this
the prettiest fashion? It is lately come over. So airy! So French! So all
that!”

It was a light-blue gown and petticoat of rich satin, sprigged with silver,
and a
manteau
of dark-blue velvet trimmed with bands
of delicate fur. The bonnet was not one which the present generation would call
“lovely;” but, in its satin depths, Charlotte's fresh, sweet face looked like a
rose. She hardly knew herself when the toilet was completed; and, during its
progress, Mistress Gordon recovered all her animation and interest.

Before they were ready, a coach was in waiting; and in a few minutes they
stood together at
Harleigh's
door. There was a sound
of voices within; and, when they entered, Charlotte saw, with a pang of
disappointment, a fine, gallantly looking man by
Harleigh's
side. But
Harleigh
appeared to be in no way annoyed
by his company. He was looking much better, and wore a chamber gown of maroon
satin, with deep laces showing at the wrists and bosom. When Charlotte entered,
he was amazed and charmed with her appearance. “Come near to me, my Charlotte,”
he said; and as Mistress Gordon drew from her shoulders the mantle, and from
her head the bonnet, and revealed more perfectly her beautiful person and
dress, his love and admiration were beyond words.

With an air that plainly said, “This is the maiden
for whom I fought and have suffered: is she not worthy of my devotion?” he
introduced her to his friend, Ewan
Rawden
. But, even
as they spoke, Ewan joined Mistress Gordon, at a call from her; and Charlotte
noticed that a door near which they stood was open, and that they went into the
room to which it led, and that other voices then blended with theirs. But these
things were as nothing. She was with her lover, alone for a moment with him;
and
Harleigh
had never before seemed to her half so
dear or half so fascinating.

“My Charlotte,” he said, “I have one tormenting thought. Night and day it
consumes me like a fever. I hear that Sir Edward
Semple
is well. Yesterday Ewan saw him; he was walking with your father. He will be
visiting at your house very soon. He will see you; he will speak to you. You
have such obliging manners, he may even clasp this hand,
my hand
.
Heavens! I am but a man, and I find myself unable to endure the thought.”

“In my heart,
Harleigh
, there is only room for you.
Sir Edward I fear and dislike.”

“They will make you marry him, my darling.”

“No; that they can never do.”

“But I suffer in the fear. I suffer a thousand deaths. If you were only my
wife, Charlotte!”

She blushed divinely. She was kneeling at his side; and she put her arms
around his neck, and laid her face against his. “Only your wife I will be. That
is what I desire also.”

“
Now
, Charlotte? This minute, darling? Make me sure of the felicity
you have promised.”

“Oh, my love, my love!”

“See how I tremble, Charlotte. Life scarcely cares to
inhabit a body so weak. If you refuse me, I will let it go. If you refuse me, I
shall know that in your heart you expect to marry Sir Edward,—the savage who
has made me to suffer unspeakable agonies.”

“Never will I marry him,
Harleigh
,—never, never.
My word is true. You only I will marry.”

The noon hour was long past, but she made no mention
of it. The moment for parting had come; and, when it has, wise are those who
delay it not.
Harleigh
fixed his eyes upon his love
until Mistress Gordon had arranged again her bonnet and
manteau
;
then, with a smile, he shut in their white portals the exquisite picture. He
could let her go with a smile now, for he knew that Charlotte's absence was but
a parted presence; knew that her better part remained with him, that her heart
was never away, but ever with his forever.”

The coach was waiting; and, without delay, Charlotte returned with Mistress
Gordon to her lodgings. Both were silent on the journey. When a great event has
taken place, only the shallow and unfeeling chatter about it. Charlotte's heart
was full, even to solemnity; and Mistress Gordon, whose affectation of
fashionable levity was in a large measure pretense, had a kind and sensible
nature, and she watched the quiet girl by her side with decided approval. “She
may not be in the mode, but she is neither silly nor heartless,” she decided;
“and as for loving foolishly my poor, delightful
Harleigh
,
why, any girl may be excused the folly.”

Upon leaving the coach at Mistress Gordon's, Charlotte went to an inner room
to resume her own dress. The India silk lay across a chair; and she took off,
and folded with her accustomed neatness, the elegant suit she had worn. As she
did so, she became sensible of a singular liking for it; and, when Mistress
Gordon entered the room, she said to her, “Madam, very much I desire this suit:
it shall be my wedding-gown. Will you save it for me? Someday I may wear it
again, when
Harleigh
is well.”

“Indeed, Charlotte, you shall have the gown. I shall be put it away for
you.”

“The time, madam? What is the hour?”

“Indeed, I think it is much after four o'clock. Half an hour hence, you will
have to bring out your excuses.

“Her excuses” Charlotte had not suffered herself to
consider. She could not bear to shadow the present with the future. She had,
indeed, a happy faculty of leaving her emergencies to take care of themselves;
and perhaps wiser people than Charlotte might, with advantage, trust less to their
own planning and foresight, and more to that inscrutable power which we call
chance, but which so often arranges favorably the events apparently very
unfavorable. For, at the best, foresight has but probabilities to work with;
but chance, whose ways we know not, very often contradicts all our bad
prophecies, and untangles untoward events far beyond our best prudence or
wisdom. And Charlotte was so happy. She really loved
Harleigh
;
and on that solid vantage-ground she felt able to beat off trouble, and to
defend her own and his rights.