The Monctons Volume I Part 28

"'Do not go to-night, Philip,' said he. 'It is the last we shall spend for a long time together. I wish to have a friendly chat with you in my dressing-room. Charlotte will make one of the party.'

"In a few minutes we were comfortably seated in the snug little room, before a cheerful fire. My friend in his easy-chair, wrapped in his dressing-gown, and my own beautiful Charlotte seated on a gaily-embroidered ottoman at his feet.

"'Here, I feel myself at home,' said Cornelius, taking a hand of each, pressing them warmly between his own. 'How much I dread this journey!

how painful it is to part with all we love on earth!'

"'Dearest brother, you will return to us quite strong and well after breathing the warm air of the south,' said Charlotte, who could never be brought to consider her brother in any danger. 'When we meet in the spring, you win laugh at your present fears, and we shall be so happy together.'

"Cornelius smiled faintly. 'I hope it may be so, my sweet Charlotte; to that hope I cling, though I feel it daily becoming more feeble. Nor would I leave England, did I not consider it my duty to embrace every means which may tend to restore me to health and usefulness. But if I should never return, my little Lady Bird, the world will run on as merrily as heretofore. I should only be missed by a few faithful hearts.'

"Poor Charlotte did not answer. Her head sank upon his knee; and I thought I heard the tears, one by one, fall upon her rich silk dress.

"'Do not antic.i.p.ate grief, my little sister,' said he, laying his hand caressingly upon her drooping head. 'Let us be happy to-night, for we know not what the morrow may bring forth. I wanted to speak to you and Philip upon a subject very near my heart.'

"After a short pause, he continued with a lively, cheerful voice--'You and Philip love one another; nay, do not turn away, Charlotte; there ought to be no shame in confessing a virtuous attachment to a worthy object.'

"Charlotte raised her eyes, moist with tears, and tried to smile; but her head sank back to its resting place, and her blus.h.i.+ng face was hidden on his knee.

"'Now I am perfectly satisfied of the warmth and sincerity of your affections, and will do all in my power to bring them to a happy issue; but there are some difficulties in the way which must first be surmounted, before you can hope to realize your wishes. You have wealth, Philip, and moral worth; these ought to be sufficient to satisfy the objections of the most fastidious. But your birth is obscure, and your connexions not such as most old families would wish to incorporate with their own. You will ask me how I came by this knowledge. It does not matter; for these worldly objections have no weight with me. It was, however, told to me by one well acquainted with your history--who, as a guardian to Charlotte, will, I fear, never consent to your marriage.'

"'There are few persons with whom I am sufficiently intimate to obtain this knowledge,' I cried. 'His name--tell me his name.'

"'Robert Moncton--Sir Alexander's cousin and man of business.'

"I felt a cold shudder thrill through me. The hopes lately so gay and buoyant shrunk back faded and blackened to my heart. 'Yet why should I fear this man?' I argued; but I did fear him--like the ghost of the dead Caesar in the camp of Brutus: he was my evil genius. I turned very faint and asked for a gla.s.s of water.

"Charlotte gave it to me with a trembling hand. The brother and sister exchanged glances of surprise; suspicion was aroused by my emotion.

"'Strange!' said Charlotte, musingly: 'he was always kind to my brother and me. What have you to say against him?'

"'Not much; but I have a secret antipathy, a horror of this man, though I never saw him but once, and that when quite a boy. I had a quarrel with his son when a lad, which produced a rupture between Sir Alexander and me, and neither father nor son ever forgave the imagined injury.'

"Charlotte looked thoughtful. It was evident that she was fond of her guardian; while Cornelius continued the conversation, which was to me both painful and embarra.s.sing.

"I know Mr. Moncton to be implacable when he takes a dislike, and considers himself ill-used, but we always have regarded him as a just and honest man. The circ.u.mstances at which you have hinted, and which I am rather surprised, that with all our brotherly intercourse, you never mentioned before, will not increase your chance of success in gaining him over to your wishes. But if I live, Philip, you will have little to fear from his opposition. Charlotte and myself are both above the common prejudices of the world, and prize you for your worth, which we consider more than places you on an equality with us, and my little sister here (and he fondly patted her head) has too high a sense of honour to encourage hopes which she never meant to realize.'

"I took Charlotte's hand--our eyes met. Her face was again hidden on her brother's knee; but my drooping heart began to revive, and I turned to listen to the long harangue of my good friend with more interest and attention, especially, as Charlotte's small white hand remained firmly clasped in mine, to repay me for its dullness and prolixity.

"Now, my advice to you both is, not to enter into any engagement, and to keep the matter of your affections known only to yourselves.

Confidence reposed in a third party is always hazardous, and generally betrayed. This will lull Moncton's suspicions, for he can greatly annoy you, should you marry Charlotte without his consent, before her minority expires. Her property, which is considerable, would then go to a distant relation.'

"'I have enough to support us both handsomely--why should our union be delayed on that score?' I cried.

"'Softly, my dear friend. Lovers always talk in that strain--husbands think differently. Why should Charlotte lose her just inheritance to gratify the ardour of your pa.s.sion? You are both young: Charlotte far too young to marry. Four years is not such a great while to wait. At the expiration of that time you can meet on equal terms, without making such an enormous sacrifice. Am I not right?'

"We said he was, and tried to think so; but I am certain that in the estimation of both his listeners, that that four years which seemed to him so short, with us spread over a period as long as the life of Methusalah. We tried to look forward, but shrunk back to the present.

Everything in prospective looked cold, blank--nay, even ugly and old, at the end of the long vista of four years.

"We promised, however, to abide by his advice. I was sad and low-spirited; and Charlotte, pleading a bad head-ache, kissed her brother, received one from me, or, what in _his_ estimation, only pa.s.sed for _one_, and retired in tears, and I felt that the joy of my heart had vanished.

"'Do not look so grave, Philip,' said my worthy friend: 'you will overcome all these difficulties.'

"I shook my head, and sighed doubtfully.

"'I am sure you will. I have a presentiment to that effect. I saw you in a dream last night, surrounded by a thousand dangers. As fast as you got out of some trouble, you fell into a worse, and after I had given you up for lost, you were rescued from the fangs of a tiger by a mere lad, who led you back to Charlotte, and joined your hands.'

"He told this with such earnestness, that I, who was no believer in signs and omens, laughed outright.

"He looked serious--almost offended.

"'You forget,' he said, 'that when man draws near his end, G.o.d often opens the eyes of the soul, and reveals not only what is, but what shall be. Oh, Philip, you who are so eager to win the affections of a timid girl, how can you be so indifferent to the love of G.o.d?'

"'Nervous debility has rendered you superst.i.tious, Cornelius. I have no faith in the religious cant of the present day, in priests or priestcraft.'

"This was my case two years ago. I was young and strong then. In the possession of wealth and all those temporal blessings, for which wiser and better men have to toil through a long life, and seldom obtain. The world was before me, and death far distant, in my thoughts. But now, the world is receding, and death is very near. You start! Have not you discovered that truth before? Soon, very soon, nothing will remain for me, but that blessed hope which I now prize as the only true riches. I am happy in the prospect which I know awaits me, and consider those only miserable to whom G.o.d is a stranger, and the love of the Saviour unknown.'

"His words affected me strangely, and yet I felt that they were distasteful. Sorrow had not taught me the knowledge of self. I had yet to learn that religion alone can do that. My soul was grovelling in the dust; my thoughts wholly engrossed by the world. Religion was to me a well-invented fable, skillfully constructed, and admirably told, being beautiful and artistic in a literary point of view, but altogether too shallow to satisfy the reason of a clever fellow like me. Oh! how repugnant are its pure precepts to those whose hearts are blinded by vanity; who live but for the pleasures of the day, and never heed the to-morrow in the skies.

"I sat down at a table near my friend, and began hastily to turn over the pages of a volume which lay before me. It contained the admirable writings of the Rev. Robert Hall. I pettishly closed the book, and pushed it from me.

"As I raised my head, our eyes met. He evidently read my thoughts.

"'I do not wish to lecture you, Philip, nor do I condemn you. Your mind, in its present unawakened state, cannot understand the sublime truths you affect to despise. The blind see not; they cannot comprehend the light, and we are not surprised that they stumble and fall. But I love you too well, Philip, to wish you to remain in this state of mental darkness. Read the Bible with the eyes of faith; think and pray, and the true light will dawn upon your soul, as it has on mine. Let not the ravings of fanaticism, nor the vulgarity of low cant, frighten you from the enjoyment of the highest and n.o.blest privilege granted to man--the capacity of holding converse with his G.o.d. And, now, farewell, my dear friend. I shall see you again in the morning; think over twice what I have said to you before you go to sleep.'

"I retired to my chamber, but not to rest. I sat before the fire, musing over, and trying to feel an interest in, the advice of my friend; I knew it was good; I felt it was right and very natural, for Cornelius, in his diseased state, to regard it as a subject of vital importance, to cherish it as the last hope which could beguile his mind, and reconcile him, to the awful and mysterious change which awaited him. 'Poor Cornelius,' said I, 'dying men catch at straws! Will your straw float you safely across the waves of the dark river? I fear not.' And in this mood I went to bed, dreamt of Charlotte, and awoke in the morning to regret the long years which must intervene before she could be mine."

END OF VOL. I.