CHAPTER XIV. When hope displays its magic art But when that hope dark grief o'erweighs, And cares the soul involve, The solid joys that deck'd our days HOGG. I weed all bitterness from out my breast; On the following morning I called again at Mr. Wilson's house to see Emily. The circumstance of my last repulse had dwelt in my mind as a matter of some astonishment, though not of any apprehension. To what motive it was to be assigned I could not guess; still I could scarcely persuade myself that it arose from intention, or was dictated by any change of feeling on her part towards me. When, therefore, I again presented myself at the door, it was without any doubt that if Emily was really at home I should be admitted at once. My surprise and alarm may easily be conceived when the same answer was again returned to my inquiry, that Miss Wilson was engaged. Determined to know at once whether the refusal was so strongly personal to myself as this repetition of the same reply seemed to indicate, "May I inquire," said I, to the attendant who appeared at the door," whether you have received explicit orders not to admit me?" "I am directed," he replied, "not to admit Mr. Stanley whenever he calls." I had walked several squares before the tumult of indefinite emotions which this unexpected rejection in a quarter where I had dreamed of nothing but kindness and regard, had excited, before I was calm enough to ask myself the meaning of so inexplicable an occurrence. But three days had passed since Emily had received me with good-will and even tenderness, and had herself assured me of the warmth of her feelings towards me. Could it be possible that offended by my previous long neglect, she had chosen again to draw me to her feet only in order to repulse me the more decidedly, and to enjoy the cruel triumph of wounding my wishes and destroying my peace? Unworthy as seemed the adoption of so cold a policy, I could not help, in the first bitterness of irritated feeling, imagining that some motive of that kind must be the cause of such signal inconsistency; but when the soft and gentle countenance of Emily rose before my calmer mind, in the peaceful image of its sweet benignity, the suggestion dropped from my thoughts as a scheme too alien from her artlessness. I felt convinced that she was labouring under some false impression, arising either from accidental mistake, or occasioned by the wilful misrepresentation of some third person. When I called to mind the circumstances discovered to me by the recent letters of my father, and added to them the occurrences at the sea-shore which had so much surprised me at the time, but now seemed in all probability a part of the same system, it became manifest that I and my family had some dark and formidable enemies, the ruthless ingenuity of whose proceedings it was not easy to fathom. That some portion of this mysterious influence which had acted so fatally upon the fortunes of my father, had been brought to bear on this present matter for the destruction of my plans and the ruin of my happiness, was an opinion which, strange and improbable as in many respects it appeared, I was strongly inclined to entertain. The incident by which my con versation with Emily in the garden had been interrupted on the evening when I had first met her, and the impression which it had produced upon me at the time of our intercourse being on that occasion the subject of observation, now occurred to me as confirmatory of the same suspicion. That night there was a large party at the house of a woman of considerable distinction in the fashionable world, and I went to it. I came in late, and having made my way through the gay crowd to a remote part of the rooms, one of the first objects that there met my eyes was the figure of Emily, standing alone between the windows, and leaning thoughtfully on a marble slab. As I looked upon her, the loveliness which seemed visibly to enhaze her presence fluttered my nature with a wildness which nothing could resist. The throb of deep excitement wherewith the might of one earnest thought disturbed my frame, was an unuttered prayer that the rich hope which her existence gave might not be blasted. The fulness with which the memories and dreams which her contemplation had lately spread through my mind had absorbed my whole being, proved to me that the sentiments and impressions which her nearness rayed forth over my mind made my true life, and that the dim sense of consciousness which alone I realised when other influences engrossed me, was a twilight vitality of spirit external to that deeper sphere of joy. Now, one glance at that soul-enthralling countenance and shape caused my feelings to flash back in an instant to that inner strength of being which recent hours had faded into common life. To be flung down from this high interior state of blessedness, and turned away to wander an alien from my better self, was a calamity which I could not think of. That accident or the cold plans of another's interest should thus pluck out so full a promise of all future pleasure of heart and elevation of spirit, was a prospect that stirred my deepest feelings, and impelled me to determine that such a result should be baffled. I approached and spoke to her. She observed my presence a moment or two before I reached her, and I observed a paleness to pass over her countenance and an embarrassment to affect her manner, although she did not move from her position. "The ill success,” said I, “which has attended two of my visits, compels me to fear that I have in some way forfeited that kindness which so graciously appointed an hour for receiving it—a fear which has filled me with the deepest uneasiness." "I must be permitted," said she, beginning to move from her place, "to question the sincerity of that uneasiness which has taken so little trouble to prevent the fact which it fears." "I cannot conceive," said I, "to what you have reference. There is certainly some mistake. I am sure that I have done nothing which malice itself could torture to offence." "It is needless," she replied very coldly, "to debate a matter so unambiguous as the circumstances to which I allude. When I say that I am fully aware of recent transactions on your part, I need scarcely add that of course all intercourse between us must be at an end. My only error consisted in confiding in words whose hollowness a disregard prolonged through so long a time abundantly proclaimed. That fault will be best atoned by a return to that previous indifference." When she had finished she turned towards a neighbouring group, and left me overcome with astonishment. To what events she made allusion I could not conceive. I felt certain that she had been abused by some false stories, and that a brief explanation on my part would dispel the impression which seemed to rest so strongly upon her. But to obtain such a hearing as would suffice to remove the deep influence which circumstance had made upon her seemed impossible, and that candour which any suggestions on my part would require for their appreciation was precluded by the prejudgment which seemed to be so decidedly fixed. I felt besides a kind of desperateness occasioned by the con. sciousness of the injustice that was done me, and a determination to renounce all attempt at reconciliation. Vexation at myself did the work of resentment against another, and I turned aside with the cruel conviction that all the hopes which I had cherished in this so lovely person were struck down, and dead for ever. I looked towards the quarter where Emily was conversing with some one whom I did not know. The thought that she whose every look and motion fancy had familiarised to my thoughts with such a household custom and acquaintance that all her beauty seemed to be my own, was now estranged to me probably for ever, was one "that worked like madness in my brain." So entwined in all my wishes was her lovely form, and so blended with every memory that flitted before my musings was the image of her smiling face, that she seemed to me a portion of myself; and it appeared against nature that so entire a portion of my very being should be alienated from me, and the "altered eye" of "hard unkindness" substituted for that dreamy glance of sympathy which made her love appear a fair creation in which my dim and shapeless imaginings of bliss were mirrored by reality. Those looks and smiles which had once flashed upon my secret spirit as hieroglyphics of peculiar passion and the private countersigns of personal appreciation, were now the common language which she used towards others, though full of strange meaning still to me. I had felt as if it was by some secret convention between us that the changes of countenance were so charged with deep expression, and while they still bore the same significance, and still woke in me the accustomed answering emotion, I could not deem that so deep an inward change had taken place in her, while those things which had stood as the exponents of feeling were unaltered. The happy confidence which gave such character to her whole conduct was gone; but the want and the weakness had remained on mine. Could I have roused resentment to ward off sensibility, and have armed myself with hate as shield against suffering, Then I might have hardened |