Lost Lenore Part 12

I looked at Adkins, and saw that my triumph over him was complete. His own appearance condemned him; and anyone to have seen him at that moment--humiliated, cowed, and guilty--would ever after have dreaded doing wrong; through very fear of looking as he did.

In truth, he presented a melancholy spectacle: for he had not the courage to a.s.sume even a show of manliness.

To complete my triumph, and his discomposure, Lenore, who had been all the while listening with eager interest, and apparent pleasure to what had been said, cried out, "Let him go, mother, if he will promise never to come near us again!"

"Yes, let him go!" repeated Mrs Hyland. "I must think before I can act."

Mason opened the door; and Adkins sneaked out in a fas.h.i.+on that was painful, even for me--his enemy--to behold. After his departure, each waited for the other to speak.

The silence was broken by Mrs Hyland, who said:

"Of you, Mr Wilton, and you, Mr Mason, I have often heard my late husband speak in the highest terms; and I know of no reason, why I should not believe what you have told me."

"With you, Rowland," she continued, turning her eyes upon me, with something of the old friendly look, "with you, I have been acquainted many years; and the princ.i.p.al reason I had for doubting your integrity and truthfulness, was because I thought that, had you possessed the regard for us, you should have had, you would certainly have come back after the death of my husband.

"You did not; and the circ.u.mstance, as you will admit, was strong against you. I have now much reason to believe that I have been deceived in Adkins; and I do not know whom to trust. I must suppose that all of you have come here without any ill feeling towards me: for I know not why you should wish to do me an injury.

"I have a respect for those in whom Mr Hyland placed confidence. I have heard him speak well of all of you; and I do not remember now of anything he ever said that should give me a favourable opinion of Adkins. Indeed, I never heard Mr Hyland speak much concerning him. It is my duty to think of the past as well as the present, before I can say anything more."

Wilton and Mason both a.s.sured Mrs Hyland that they had only acted under the influence of a sense of duty--inspired by the respect they had for the memory of her husband.

We left the house; but not till Mrs Hyland had shaken hands with me, and at the same time extended to me an invitation to call the next day; and not till Mrs Hyland's daughter had given me reason to believe that my visit would be welcome.

Volume One, Chapter XIV.

ONCE MORE FRIENDS.

I did call the next day, and had no particular reason to be dissatisfied with my reception.

Mrs Hyland did not meet me in the same motherly manner, she once used to exhibit; but I did not expect it; and I could not feel displeased at being admitted on any terms, into the presence of a being so beautiful as Lenore.

Neither did _she_ receive me in the same manner she used to do in the past; but neither was I annoyed by that circ.u.mstance. It was necessary that the child-like innocence and familiarity, once existing between us, should cease; and it was no chagrin to me to perceive that it had done so.

I confessed to Mrs Hyland, that I had acted wrong in not returning to Liverpool after her husband's death; but I also explained to her how, on being discharged from the s.h.i.+p, I had felt myself sorely aggrieved; and, having no longer a home, I had to wander about as circ.u.mstances dictated. I added, of course, that could I have had the least suspicion that my absence would have been construed into any evidence of crime or ingrat.i.tude, I would have returned long before to refute the calumny.

Lenore did not try to conceal her pleasure, at seeing her mother and myself conversing once more as friends.

"You must not leave us again, Rowland," said she, "for we have not many friends, and can ill-afford to lose one. See how near we have been to losing you--all through your being absent."

"Yes, Rowland," said Mrs Hyland. "My house was once your home; and you are welcome to make it so again. I shall only be fulfilling the wishes of my husband, by renewing the intimate friends.h.i.+p that once existed between us."

Her invitation to make her house once more my home, I reluctantly declined. Lenore seemed no longer my sister; and with some sorrow the conviction forced itself on my mind--that my fate was to love--to love, yet wander far from the one I loved.

Lenore was now a young lady. I thought myself a man. As children, we could no longer live together--no longer dwell under the same roof.

Lenore was too beautiful; and I was too much afflicted with poverty.

Any further acquaintance between us might not contribute to my future happiness but the contrary.

I left the house with mingled feelings of pleasure and despair, pleased to find myself once more restored to the good opinion of Mrs Hyland-- despairing of being able to resist the fascinations of her daughter's beauty.

Every time I gazed upon her fair face, could only add to my misery. I was young; and as I had been told, good-looking. Lenore and I had been old friends and playmates. It was possible for me to win her love; but would it be honourable?

Would it be a proper return for the kindness of Captain Hyland and his widow, for me, a penniless "rolling stone," to try to win the affections of their only child, and subject her to the misery of my own unfortunate lot? No! I could love Lenore; but I could not act in such an unworthy manner.

Then followed the reflection, that Mrs Hyland had some property. Her home would be mine. She needed a son-in-law to look after the s.h.i.+p; and I was a seaman.

These thoughts only stirred within me a feeling of pride, that would not allow me to receive any advantage of fortune from one I could choose for a wife. I knew that with all the exertions a man may make--and however correct his habits may be--he cannot live happily with a wife who brings into the firm of husband and wife more money than himself.

Another unpleasant consideration came before me. Why should I be seeking for reasons against marrying Lenore, when perhaps she might not consent to marry _me_? Because we were old friends, was no reason why she should ever think of me as a husband. By trying to make her love me, I might, as she had said of Mr Adkins, cause her only to hate me.

The day after my visit to Mrs Hyland and Lenore, I went to see Mason, the steward, in order that I might thank him for the good word he had spoken for me--as well as for much kindness he had shown towards me, when we were s.h.i.+pmates in the `Lenore.' He received me in a cordial manner, that caused me to think better of mankind, than I had lately done. In a long conversation I held with him, he told me of many acts of dishonesty, in the committal of which he had detected Adkins, who, he said, had been robbing Mrs Hyland in every way he could.

"Captain Hyland took much trouble in giving you some education," said he; "why don't you marry the daughter, and take command of the s.h.i.+p?"

"I am a poor penniless adventurer," I replied, "and dare not aspire to so much happiness as would be mine, were I to become the husband, as well as captain, of `Lenore.' I am neither so vain nor ambitious."

"That's a fact," said Mason. "You have not enough of either. No man ever did any thing for himself, or any one else, without thinking something of himself, and making such a trial as you decline to undertake. He is a lucky man who wins without trying."

There was truth in what the steward said; but the Hylands had been my friends, and were so again; and I could not bring myself to abuse the confidence they had placed in me. I could not speak of love to Lenore, and so I told the steward.

In this interview with Mason, I learnt from him that Adkins had disappeared, and could no more be found!

"His flight," said Mason, "will be positive proof to Mrs Hyland that he was unworthy of the confidence she had placed in him. She cannot be too thankful, that your return has been the means of her discovering his true character. I would have exposed him long ago, but I did not think that I could succeed; and that I would only be doing myself an injury-- in short, ruining my poor family, without the consolation of knowing that I had also ruined a scoundrel. Thank the Lord for all his mercies!

The villain has been uncloaked at last."

With this pious thanksgiving ended the interview, between the honest steward and myself.

Volume One, Chapter XV.

LOVE AND POVERTY.

From that time I called every day to see Lenore and her mother; and each time came away more hopelessly infatuated.

My money was gradually growing easier to count--until I found that I had but a few s.h.i.+llings left, and necessity must soon force me to seek employment. Of course I contemplated going to sea, and making my living on board some s.h.i.+p; but I found it impossible to come to a determination.

How was I to leave Liverpool, where I could gaze each day on the beauty that adorned Lenore?

I could not take my departure until circ.u.mstances should compel me. In order to protract my stay as long as possible, I lived on but one meal per diem; and as I had also to keep a little money for my lodgings, I made that meal upon a penny roll.

Mrs Hyland had determined on giving up the s.h.i.+p--a resolution no doubt due to the mismanagement, or rather dishonesty, of him who had lately commanded her. I a.s.sisted her in finding a purchaser; and she was very fortunate in disposing of the vessel at a good price.

She had plenty of money, and was willing to aid me. But pride prevented me from accepting of anything but her friends.h.i.+p; and ofttimes did I appear in the presence of Lenore while suffering the pangs of hunger!

Was that love?

I thought it was; and on this fancy, and a single roll of bread, I lived from day to day. Never had I been so happy, and, at the same time, so wretched. I could look upon her I loved, and converse with her for hours at a time. That was happiness. But I loved Lenore, and must leave her. That was misery.

Lenore seemed to meet me with so much cheerfulness, that my resolution to leave her--without being absolutely compelled to it--was often nearly broken; and I believe there are but few who would have resisted the temptation to stay. But pride, a sense of justice, and a love of independence, prompted me to go forth again upon the world, and seek fortune afresh. Perhaps, too, the fact that I was naturally a "rolling stone," might have had much to do in my determination, at length arrived at, of bidding adieu to Lenore. There was yet another motive urging my departure--one which had been too long allowed to lie dormant within my bosom; my relatives were lost, and I knew not where to find them. This thought often arose, causing me much regret. I had as yet no reason to believe that they had left Liverpool; but if such should prove to be the case, the sooner I started in search of them, the sooner would my conscience be satisfied.

I waited till my last s.h.i.+lling was spent; and then sold a signet ring-- which I had taken from the finger of a dead Mexican, on the field of battle--obtaining thirty s.h.i.+llings for it. With this trifling sum I had a great deal to accomplish. It const.i.tuted the sole fund with which my relatives were to be sought and found. It was the capital I had to invest, in the business of making a fortune worthy of Lenore!