"I pr'ythee hear me speak!"
Richard III.
{William Shakespeare, "Richard III", IV.iv.180}
HAZLEHURST had gone out with his friends, and continued walking on the piazza, first with Charlie and then with Ellsworth; at length Mrs. Stanley called him from the window to say good-bye, as she did not expect to see him again before the cruise; the other ladies also wished him a pleasant excursion at the same moment.
"Good fishing and no musquitoes {sic}--which, I take it, is all that is desirable on such an occasion," said Mrs. Creighton, smiling brightly but carelessly, as she offered her hand.
"Thank you; I suppose you have no commands for Cape Cod?"
"None at all, I believe, unless you can bring us the true Yankee receipt for chowder, which Mr. Stryker was explaining this evening."
"You will be off so early to-morrow that we shall scarcely see you, Harry," said Miss Wyllys. "You must come back to us, however, and fall into the old habit of considering Wyllys-Roof as home, whenever you please," she added kindly.
Harry's thanks were expressed with feeling.
"And in the mean time I hope you will have a pleasant cruise," said Elinor. "Fair winds and better prospects attend you!"--and as she raised her eyes, Harry observed they had filled with tears when she made this allusion to his difficulties. Perhaps Ellsworth made the same remark, and appreciated her kindness; for when Elinor turned to wish him good-night we strongly suspect that his countenance said so; there could be no doubt at least, that she blushed at the time, though pale but a moment before.
After the ladies had gone, Mr. Wyllys and Ellsworth went off together, and Harry returned to the piazza.
It was perhaps inconsiderate in Hazlehurst to continue walking so late, for the sound of his footsteps fell regularly on the stillness of the night, long after the family had gone to rest, and may possibly have disturbed some of his friends; but many busy thoughts of the past and the future crowded on his mind, while pacing that familiar spot, the piazza of Wyllys-Roof. It is time that these thoughts should be partially revealed to the reader, and for that purpose we must pause a moment, in order to look backward.
Long since, Harry's heart had warmed again towards his old playfellow, Elinor. As soon as the first novelty of a life at Rio had worn off, Harry, whose affections were strong, began to miss his old friends; the more so, since Mr. Henley, although his principles and talents entirely commanded his secretary's esteem, was not a pleasant companion in every-day life. Hazlehurst soon began to contrast the minister's formal, old bachelor establishment with the pleasant house of his friend Ellsworth, where Mrs. Creighton did the honours charmingly, and with the cheerful home of his brother, where his sister-in-law always received him kindly: still oftener be compared the cold, stately atmosphere which seemed to fill Mr. Henley's house, with the pleasant, genial spirit which prevailed at Wyllys-Roof, where everything excellent wore so amiable an aspect. Until lately he had always been so closely connected with the family there, that he accused himself of not having done full justice to all their worth. He took a pleasure in dwelling on Mr. Wyllys's high moral character, so happily tempered by the benevolence of cheerful old age; he remembered the quiet, unpretending virtues of Miss Wyllys, always mingled with unvarying kindness to himself; and could he forget Elinor, whose whole character was so engaging; uniting strength of principle and intelligence, with a disposition so lovely, so endearing? A place in this family had been his, his for life, and he had trifled with it, rejected it; worse than that--well he knew that the best place in Elinor's generous heart had once been wholly his; he had applied for it, he had won it; and what return had he made for her warmest affections? He had trifled with her; the world said he had jilted her, jilted the true-hearted Elinor, his friend and companion from childhood! Knowing her as well as he did, he had treated her as if she were a mere ball-room coquette; he had forgotten her as soon as if it had been a mere holiday fancy of a boy of fifteen.
He had been completely infatuated, dazzled, blinded by a beautiful face. That it was sheer infatuation was now evident; for, absent from both Elinor and Jane, all feeling for the latter seemed to have vanished like a dream. It is said that love without hope cannot live: the question must be settled by those who have suffered most frequently from the wounds of Cupid; but it seems evident, at least from Harry's experience, that love which has fed plentifully upon hopes for some months, when suddenly put upon a change of diet, and receiving a large dose of mortification to boot, falls immediately into a rapid decline.
The recollection of his fancy for Jane was now unpleasant under every aspect, but where it was connected with Elinor he soon began to consider it as particularly painful. He regretted that he had engaged Elinor in the hasty, boyish manner he had done, before going abroad; had he not taken this step, the momentary mortification of a refusal by Jane would have been the only evil; Elinor would not have suffered, and all might have gone well.
