Lost Lenore Part 71

As I took her hand in mine--to speak that parting, which was to be our last--she fixed her eyes upon me in a glance I shall not forget till my dying hour.

In another instant she was gone.

To me there was something more than painful in this visit from Jessie.

It surprised me--as did also her bearing and language. Had she been at all like any other girl, the singularity would have been still more apparent; but she was not. Her conduct was not to be judged by the same standard, as if she had been a young lady educated in the highly civilised society of Europe. She was a child of Nature; and believed that to conceal her thoughts and affections, was a sin against herself-- as well as against all whom they might regard. In all likelihood she fondly loved me; and regretted the promise she had given to become the wife of Vane. Such being the case, she may have deemed it her duty to make known to me the state of her mind, before she became irrevocably united to another; and this she had done regardless of consequences. In acting thus, Jessie H--might have been conscious of no wrong, nor could I see any, although had another behaved in a similar manner, my opinion would have been different.

A young lady, brought up in English society, that teaches her rigidly to conceal every warm affection and impulse of the heart, would have been acting wrong in doing as Jessie H--had done. In her betrothal to Vane, she had undoubtedly yielded to the wishes of her father, instead of following the dictates of her own mind; but such was not the case in her making that visit to me.

Her marriage was to take place the next day; and it may be supposed that she ought to have been engaged in making preparations for that important event. Such would the world decide to have been her duty. But her artless, pure, and confiding nature, rendered her independent of the opinions of the world; and she had made one last reckless effort to possess herself of the man she loved.

The effort had failed. Fate was against her.

I went to make my daily visit to Lenore; and Jessie, along with her grief, was for awhile forgotten.

Volume Three, Chapter x.x.xII.

MRS NAGGER.

Since meeting with Lenore, I had faithfully responded to the invitation of Captain Nowell. Most of my time had been devoted to his ladies; or rather, spent in the society of Lenore. Every day had witnessed the return of happy hours; and, strange to say, the happiest were experienced on the day of that sad parting with Jessie!

On that morning, Lenore had promised to be mine; and an early day had been appointed for our marriage.

In procuring her consent to our speedy union, I was aided by Captain Nowell, who wished to be present at the ceremony, and could not postpone the departure of his ship.

When Lenore and I came to compare notes, and make mutual confession, she expressed surprise that I should ever have thought her capable of marrying another!

"Did you not tell me, Rowland," said she, "to wait for your return, and you would then talk to me of love? I knew your motive for going away; and admired you for it. I firmly confided in what you told me. All the time of your absence, I believed you would come back to me; and I should have waited for many years longer. Ah! Rowland, I could never have loved another."

My journey to Liverpool--to ascertain the name and address of the man Lenore had _not_ married--I had hitherto kept a secret, but a letter had arrived the evening before, which frustrated my designs. Mrs Lanson had written to her old friend, Mrs Nowell--giving a full account of my visit that had ended so abruptly. I was compelled to listen to a little pleasant raillery from Captain Nowell, who did not fail to banter me about the trouble I had taken, to learn what I might have discovered much sooner and easier--by simply keeping faith with him, in the promise I had made to call upon him.

"I told you aboard the ship," said he, "that I had something to show you worth looking at; and that you couldn't do better than visit me, before throwing yourself away elsewhere. See what it has cost you, neglecting to listen to my request. Now, is it not wonderful, that the plan I had arranged for your happiness, when we were seven thousand miles from this place, should be the very one that fate herself had in store for you?"

I agreed with Captain Nowell, that there was something very strange in the whole thing; and something more agreeable than strange.

I returned home highly elated with the prospect of my future happiness.

I informed my brother and his wife of a change in my intentions--merely telling them that I had given up the design of returning to Australia.

They were much gratified at this bit of news, for they had both used every argument to dissuade me from going back to the colonies.

"What has caused this sudden, and I must say sensible, abandonment of your former plans?" asked my brother.

"I have at last found one," I answered, "that I intend making my wife."

"Ah!" exclaimed William, "the one that you had lost?"

"Yes, the one that I had lost; but what makes you think there was such an one?"

"Oh! that was easily seen. Ever since meeting you on the Victoria diggings, I noticed about you the appearance of a man who had lost something--the mother of his children, for instance. I have never asked many particulars of your past life; but, until within the last few days, you looked very like a man who had no other hope, than that of being able to die sometime. Why, Rowland, you look at this minute, ten years younger, than you did three days ago!"

I could believe this: for the change that had taken place in my soul was like pa.s.sing from night to day.

I was, indeed, happy, supremely happy: since Lenore had promised to be mine.

That day I did not think of poor Jessie, until after my return home, when Mrs Nagger, while setting my tea before me, put the question:

"Please, sir, how is the poor young lady who was here this morning? She was such a nice creetur, I'm anxious to hear if she be well again."

This was the most reasonable remark I had heard the old housekeeper make, during all my acquaintance with her. She had given utterance to a long speech, without once using her favourite expression. The fact was something wonderful; and that is probably the reason why I have recorded it.

In answer to her interrogatory, I told her, that I had neither seen nor heard of the young lady since the morning.

"Then more's the pity!" rejoined Mrs Nagger. "If men have no regard for such a lovely creetur as her, it's no wonder _I_ have never found a husband. More's the pity, sir! That's all _I_ can say."

Mrs Nagger was a good servant; but my sister-in-law and her mother were often displeased with her; on account of a disposition she often displayed for meddling too much with what did not, or should not have concerned her. She seemed to consider herself one of the family; and ent.i.tled to know the affairs of every member of it, although I believe she was prompted to this, by a feeling of friendship and good will.

"Nagger," I once heard my brother's wife say to her, "I think you give yourself much more trouble, than is required from you."

"More's the pity, ma'am!" answered Nagger.

"You must not interfere with what does not concern you," continued Mrs Stone. "If you do, I shall have to dispense with your services."

"If you do, ma'am, more's the pity! That's all I can say."

"I wish it _was_ all you could say. Then, perhaps, we should agree very well."

"The more I don't trouble about your business," rejoined Mrs Nagger, "the more's the pity for us all!"

I believe that my sister-in-law knew this; or if not, she probably thought that a better servant would be difficult to obtain; and Nagger continued to keep her place.

I had promised to call again at Captain Nowell's, that same evening, and take my brother, his wife, and her mother, along with me.

The Captain wished to see them before setting sail; and had urged me to bring them to his house--a request with which I was but too ready to comply: as I was desirous to show Lenore to my relations. I communicated my intention to them; and asked if they had made any engagement for the evening.

"No, I think not. Have you, William?" asked Mrs Stone.

"Not that I know of," answered my brother, "unless it be to make ourselves happy at our own fireside."

"I am to be married in six days," said I, "and there is no time to lose in getting you acquainted with my intended. I have promised to take you all to see her this evening--if I can induce you to go. What say you?

Will you accompany me?"

They looked at each other.

"I cannot tell," said Mrs Stone. "What do you say, mother? What do you think William. I am impatient to see Rowland's choice; but would it be etiquette for us to go to-night?"

"What do we care for etiquette?" said William. "I, for one, am above it. Let us go!"

An hour afterwards, we were all on the way to the residence of Captain Nowell.

On being ushered into the drawing-room, my relatives were surprised to meet an old acquaintance--the captain of the ship, on which they had voyaged some thousands of miles.