self, therefore, she replied, in as calm a tone as she could assume, 66 By what right, and on what plea would Mr. Euston interfere in my concerns, and how dare he thus heap insult upon insult ?" "Helen! Helen! can you ask such a question in such a tone? Is all that has passed between us thus forgotten? Speak warmly, speak angrily, any thing but that cold and chilling tone!" "To speak angrily were to bring tempest to tempest; to think on the past were but to dwell on promises made only to be broken, of indignities repented of only to be repeated." The young man writhed beneath her words and looks, for even in his passion he could not deny their truth. He paused a moment, then laid his hand upon her arm, whilst his cheek changed from pale to red each second, as he said: "Answer but one question! make but one promise!" "I make no promise, for then I should keep it; I answer no question, for you have no right to ask it." "You do right, lady! Oh! that I could but acquire such calm, cold prudence!" "You shall have my best wishes for success in such an attempt." "Doubtless! it would save you fears for your minion's safety. You will not answer, for you love him! You will not promise, for you will wed him!" and he pressed more closely to her, and grasped her arm more firmly. "Stand back, sir!" said she indignantly, extricating her arm from his grasp, and backing her horse till the bank, that bounded the road, prevented her putting a further space between them. "How dare you use such language to me ? What levity have you seen in the conduct of Helen St. Maur that you should tax her with yielding heart and hand, unwoed, unasked, to one seen but twice? Where is your promise of yesterday? Where is the manly feeling that should make you scorn to insult a woman? Shame! Robert, shame! You but degrade yourself, not me, by such suspicions. I have borne your reproaches too patiently, or you had not dared to insult me thus; you had not dared, this morning, to waken blushes by your looks, and then give gossips a right to tattle of my confusion. Your pardon if I guard against such insults for the future. Henceforth we meet but rarely; bring my name still more before the public by seeking this stranger, and the doors of Hurlestone Park are closed against you for ever. Farewell!" She bowed, with flushed cheek and flushing eye; and before he could answer her horse was many paces before him, proceeding at no gentle speed. It was not the first time he had justly offended his cousin by his violent conduct; but as he had never insulted her so far before, so had he never before seen her so decided and indignant. He had tried to catch her bridle as she passed, but the effort had been vain; and he made no further attempt to stay, or follow her. The warmth and sincerity of her indignation at his suspicions, convinced him of their incorrectness despite that tell-tale blush; and he felt, if innocent, he could never expect her to forgive him. He thought not of his horse; he thought not of standing thus strangely in a public road, exposed to the gaze and wonder of passers-by; he thought of nothing but Helen—of her indignant looks-of her indignant words. He sat pale and motionless on his horse, who, unrestrained, fed on the grass and wild flowers growing by the side of the road. So completely was he lost to all around him, that he knew not he was an object of observation to any, till a voice close beside him said, "I am afraid you are ill, Master Robert." He started, and then first perceived Helen's grey-headed groom was by his side. The first thought was that Helen had sent him. "Did my cousin send you to inquire?" he questioned eagerly. 66 No, Sir! Miss Helen is on before, but seeing you look so pale, I could not ride after her without stopping to ask if you were ill." No, James, quite well!" said Mr. Euston, angry at having asked the question, since the answer had not been as he wished; snatching up the reins as he spoke, and turning his horse's head in the contrary direction. "Ah, Master Robert," said the old man, who having grown grey in the service of the family, thought himself entitled to take liberties now and then, "it's many's the time I have nursed you, and Miss Helen too, Heaven bless you! and pretty children you was both of you; and this is not the first time I have seen you quarrel: for I am sure 'tis that makes you look so pale. We old folks see a great deal, though we don't say much." An angry flush and an impatient movement showed that the young man thought the old groom could talk more than enough. "Now don't be offended, Master Robert," he continued; do but ride after my young lady, and say you are sorry, and she will look as sweet as ever. I never knew her refuse to forgive any one in my life; and see, she is waiting for you now on the top of the hill. Now do, Master Robert, do !" "Peace, fool!" cried the irritated young man, angry at being supposed to be in fault, and that too by an inferior, and allowing passion again to master every better feeling. "Peace, I tell you! If your young lady be offended, she must get pleased again; I am not one to dance attendance on her humours. Ride on! she is waiting for you." The servant did as he was ordered in silence, with a reproachful shake of the head, and Robert was again alone. Helen loitered on the hill for her attendant, but before he could reach the due distance in the rear, a horse dashed past him at full speed, and Mr. Euston again rode by his cousin's side. She took no notice of his approach, but appeared intent on guiding her horse down the steep descent, and nothing but a deeper flush upon her cheek told she was aware of his presence. Unable longer to endure this silence, he at length said, in a deep and earnest voice, "Helen, can you forgive me?" Unprepared for such a sudden change of conduct, she checked her horse, looked in his pale face, and then replied in a calm and soft, but melancholy tone, "You have wounded me deeply, Robert; ought you to expect forgiveness ?" "No! and I cannot forgive myself; yet if you knew the misery your anger occasions, you would pity me. I can make no apology for the past; I dare make no promise for the future. I only ask, can you forgive me?" If his conduct had been more violent than usual, his sorrow seemed in like proportion, and Helen's was no heart to wound unnecessarily one whom she loved, by coldness or distrust; frankly giving him her hand therefore, she said, “I can and do forgive you; and, instead of pledge or apology, trust for the future to your native generosity." The hand was taken, and warmly pressed; but neither spoke for a few minutes: words were not needed. 66 Robert," said Helen, "there is still time to visit your lodge; this short cut will take us thither;" and she turned up a narrow lane as she spoke, which in due time brought them to the building. The lodge being duly seen and criticised, remarks made, and advice given, Helen prepared to return home. The groom gave place to the cousin in handing her gratitude he insisted on After some time, during to her saddle, and in gallantry and escorting her part of her way back. part of which the gentleman seemed absent, Helen turned playfully to him, saying, " Now you shall hear all I know of the stranger." "No, no! not one word!" he replied hastily, colouring with shame at her having thus divined his wishes. "Let me show I can keep a good resolution for one day." "You shall show that by listening; otherwise I see clearly you will still imagine a thousand strange things. The only dif ficulty is, to know how to make a tale out of nothing. You doubtless guessed that I had visited the church-yard on the day of my return before I met you, and the thoughts of the past came over me as I stood there, and—but that matters not! you can well imagine I was in no mood to wish for an observer, for sad thoughts will come sometimes despite our will: but to my tale. Bran's loud bark disturbed my meditations, and turning towards him, I saw, to my surprise, and at first terror, a black bushy head rising above one of the tombs near me. Vexed at having had a spectator of my weakness, I left the place immediately, and saw no more of the stranger till yesterday, when happening to pass just as my pony pretended fear of the bridge over the village stream, with com. mon politeness he compelled the refractory animal to obediMy thanks were as brief as the service required, and here ends what, with wild actors, might have turned out the tragedy of The Stranger!'" ence. This frank and unembarrassed explanation one would have thought must have proved quite satisfactory; but one doubt still remained, and this was not lost on our heroine, who said, "What, not satisfied now? On my word, you are unconscionable!" "Forgive me! I am ashamed of myself. I had no right to expect an explanation, and your account is quite satisfac tory; but " 6 "But you are not satisfied. Away with the ugly word, it mars every sentence in which it finds a place. You hear of perfection, and give up yourself heart and mind to love it, and then at the end comes in a but,' and you learn your love has been thrown away, and that perfection is not perfection. Give me no more buts then, and you shall ask three questions, if there be need for so many?" Ashamed to avail himself of her permission, and yet too VOL. I. D jealous to act the generous part and decline it, he at length stammered out "Your blush ?" 66 6 "If 'My blush!" she said, colouring as she answered. Robert gave this cheek a little red,' how could I help it? Have you known me so long, and yet not discovered that, despite all the adulation which, as an heiress, et par consequence a beauty, I have received, I have never conquered that very silly and inconvenient habit of blushing? The flatterers say, 'My mantling blood, in ready play, "Then the stranger had the impertinence to offer adulation? I thought as much." "I should hope my general conduct is such as to warrant the conviction that I should neither receive or suffer impertinence from a stranger, however I may bear with it from a relation." "You are severe, but I may not resent your severity, for I deserve it." “Then is it not severity." "Nay, but you bade me ask a question, and yet give it not frank answer. "Ask it again then, if you will be so bold, and my pledge shall be redeemed." : He hesitated to decline putting the question he felt would be to take a higher place in her esteem, yet did jealousy overpower his better feelings, and he again asked, in a hurried tone, and with averted face, what had given rise to her blushes and confusion. She answered coldly, "Your suspicions and violence." "And was that all?" he said, in a freer but inquiring tone. "Mr. Euston !" "Pardon! pardon, Helen! The thought of this stranger rendering you a service drives me distracted; you think so much of gratitude." "You wish me to forget all due to yourself, I must conclude, since you persist in such unworthy conduct." "It is unworthy; I know it; and yet can I not avoid it. Your coldness to my suit-your very perfections, urge me to and I cannot resist the impulse." it ; 66 Say rather will not;' I am no believer in fatalism.' |