Margaret Capel Volume I Part 9

"For sculpture is to painting what Epic is to Tragic poetry. The External against the Internal;" rejoined Mr. Haveloc, "the one demanding perfection of form--the other relying chiefly upon truth of expression."

"Guido then ought to have been a sculptor," said Miss Gage.

"Yes!" he replied. "In Guido's pictures the Ideal prevails after this fashion; in the omission of accident, or defect in his forms--that is, in the omission of character or individuality. They are beautiful embellishments to a room--great technical achievements; but they do not appeal to the depths of the heart, although much beauty will often affect the feelings."

"I understand the distinction," said Elizabeth, "Murillo appeals to the sympathies by taking beings made of common clay, forms that have existed--more powerful agents than only such as might exist--and elevating them by the profound sensibilities with which he has endowed them."

"Exactly," returned Mr. Haveloc. "His Virgin, in his great picture of the Holy Family, is a woman of humble life, in simple garments, and not remarkable for beauty of form; he has painted her with faultless truth, and inspired her face with an expression of maternal love, so tender, so earnest, so overwhelming in its fulness and its anxiety, that I should think few people could view it without being deeply affected."

"It is only when truth is outdone," said Miss Gage, "that I object to the Ideal. As for instance, when Raphael, a name I do not mention but with the deepest respect, depicts the Virgin Mary with all the delicate beauty of a pampered Princess, and attired in the most gorgeous garments."

"Yes," he said, "although he has thrown into the features all the refinement of intellect and tenderness of feeling of which woman is capable; high-born, caressed, educated, magnificent woman. I do consider that Murillo has bequeathed a grander lesson to the future, has achieved more in art, and awakened our sympathies at a purer source, by his strict adherence to nature, than Raphael by his exquisite and ideal conception of female grace."

"In fact," said Miss Gage, "to go a little aside of the old saying, you think that truth is the well from which every poet and every artist should draw their inspiration; and that no important, no ultimate good can result from any exaggeration, even when the falsehood is enlisted on the side of unearthly and transcendent beauty."

"I need not say, Miss Gage," said Mr. Haveloc, "that I could not have expressed my meaning so completely as you have done."

"You young fellows," said Mr. Cas.e.m.e.nt, rising from the table, "you think you know everything now-a-days."

Margaret who had been looking up in Miss Gage's face listening--her features radiant with breathless and earnest attention--looked round at Mr. Cas.e.m.e.nt with something like horror in her countenance. She was shocked that he should interrupt a discourse so replete to her with new and interesting ideas.

Mr. Haveloc's scorn prevented his taking up the remark; Miss Gage who was well accustomed to tolerate Mr. Cas.e.m.e.nt, turned round with some playfulness of manner:

"If I were not going away, Mr. Cas.e.m.e.nt," she said, "I hear the carriage, Hubert--I should take you very seriously to task. Pray, Mr.

Haveloc, before I go, acknowledge that Murillo is a poet of the highest order, and an exception to those artists whom you have praised for mere mechanical excellence."

"I do acknowledge," he replied, "that in his hands the pencil becomes a sceptre, to which every enlightened mind must do homage."

When Mr. Haveloc returned from seeing Miss Gage to her carriage, he found Mr. Grey just concluding his encomiums upon Margaret for having behaved so very prettily to his guests. He turned round and asked Mr.

Haveloc if Miss Gage did not sing charmingly.

Mr. Haveloc hesitated a little, and at length said, "that her singing was rather sensible than impa.s.sioned."

"Why really, Claude," said Mr. Grey, "in a wife I should prefer the sensible style."

"My dear Sir," returned Mr. Haveloc with a short laugh, "I have no idea of presuming to aspire to Miss Gage's hand. I imagine that even the industry of scandal could attribute nothing to our intercourse but the most distant acquaintance."

He spoke with some bitterness, but Mr. Grey who was singularly exempt from irritable feelings himself, seldom detected them in others.

"I don't know, Claude," he said; "I thought she looked splendid this evening. She is the handsomest woman in the county; and when I saw you talking so nicely together, I wished with all my heart it might come to something."

"I wish her a better fate, Sir," said Mr. Haveloc turning away.

"Why, Claude, ay to be sure! One should not talk of such matters before little people. Going away my little pet? Good night--sleep well!"

Margaret had a great deal to think about when she found herself in her own room. Miss Mason tangled and untangled her hair at pleasure; her thoughts were too busy in recalling all that had been said and done that evening. She had heard persons talk who possessed ideas; who had thought, and formed opinions upon different subjects; this was such a different thing from school knowledge, that she felt confused for some time in the uncertainty she felt as to the means of acquiring such mental power herself. She determined at least to be guided by Miss Gage, who she was sure would direct her as to the books she ought to read; and perhaps in time she might become wise enough to talk to persons who knew as much as Mr. Haveloc. She wished again that he had not been so wicked; but she remembered with displeasure Mr. Cas.e.m.e.nt's impertinent allusion to his former conduct. She was convinced he was very sorry for it, and though she sincerely wished him out of the house, she was employed in pitying him, when Miss Mason having concluded her duties, wished her young lady good night.

CHAPTER VII.

A melancholy, grounded and resolved Received into a habit argues love, Or deep impression of strong discontents.

THE LADY'S TRIAL.

Since my coming home I have found More sweets in one unprofitable dream Than in my life's whole pilgrimage.

SUN'S DARLING.

Now Mr. Haveloc was at this time enjoying the delightful consciousness that he had been making a great simpleton of himself; but this is a state of feeling which indicates some superiority of character; for your common people when they have been exposing themselves to the derision of all their acquaintance, generally parade themselves with all the dignity of a peac.o.c.k, and feel convinced that they have been behaving with singular discretion. This state of feeling was agreeably relieved by the knowledge that people had said a great many things of him which were untrue, and which were particularly exasperating to a person of his temperament.

They had filled up the outline of his attentions to Mrs. Maxwell Dorset--attentions far more marked than was consistent with propriety--by a variety of incidents, extremely wrong, but, which was much worse in his eyes, exceedingly ridiculous. They had exaggerated the regard which the lady had abundantly professed for him into an idolatry that was painfully absurd; and they invented a narrative of an unsuccessful attempt on his part to carry her off, which drove him from Florence, and very nearly frantic into the bargain. As he returned to his senses, he contemplated Mrs. Maxwell Dorset with unmixed contempt and disgust. Very exacting and fastidious in his ideas of women, he could imagine nothing more opposed to all his demands of female delicacy and dignity, than this woman, who had for a time blinded him by her flattery, and her foolish and criminal preference. He was angry with her, and still more angry with himself, and yet more enraged against society at large for the unceremonious manner in which they had discoursed of his proceedings; and his feelings of dissatisfaction on the subject were by no means diminished by the knowledge that he was not the first person by very many whom her artifices had enslaved. This fact which of course reached his ears when it was too late--for your friends never tell you of a thing when you might profit by it--in divesting her attachment of the complimentary aspect it might otherwise have worn, opened his eyes more effectually than a score of homilies could have done.

In this happy frame of mind, he came to Ashdale, thinking that it would be a relief to plunge into solitude with his friend, Mr. Grey. He was very much annoyed to find that Margaret was residing with her uncle; but Mr. Grey pressed him so warmly to take up his abode with him for a time, that he hardly knew how to decline his hospitality. He could scarcely tell Mr. Grey that he detested the idea of remaining under the same roof with his niece. It was a great relief to him when he found that Margaret was entirely different from any young lady he had ever seen. She never entered into conversation with him, and never, if she could help it, remained in the room with him for a single moment. He began to be disappointed that she invariably stole out after her uncle as he left the breakfast-table, and came down into the drawing-room exactly as the bell rang for dinner. He became more and more struck with her beauty and her simplicity, and he felt a curiosity to know whether her intellect at all responded to the beautiful countenance which varied with every shade of thought that floated through her mind.

It so happened that he was not able to pursue his investigations for some time, for some affair of business required his immediate return to his own home. He mentioned this to Mr. Grey as they were standing round the fire just before dinner, and would have given much to have seen Margaret's face at the moment.

It was too late when they took their places at the table to hope that any expression of emotion, or surprise would be visible. Indeed it was not being quite so reasonable as men ought to be upon those subjects, to expect that she should regret the departure of a visitor, who, though perfectly courteous to her, had been remarkably deficient in those attentions which a beautiful girl might almost expect from one of the other s.e.x. In fact, Margaret was exceedingly glad to hear the news. She felt that among other advantages, the library would be no longer forbidden-ground to her. She would again be able to loiter among the books and maps, instead of carrying those volumes she wished to read into her own room, and sending them back by Land when she had done.

Mr. Haveloc was always in the library, reading or writing, which was one of his most serious offences in her eyes. As for her attempting to attract or interest him, she would have considered such a thing as seriously and entirely out of the question. She knew very well that the girls at school would have called him a capital match, and she knew also that there would have been no end to their jests if they had heard that she was staying in the house with so desirable an article of property as a rich young man. But Margaret was romantic. She thought him very much in the way; and she was rather shocked that any one so immoral should help her to salad, or to orange-jelly.

"The Somertons are come back, Claude," said Mr. Grey; "I wish you were not going away just now. They always make the place gay."

"Thank you, Sir," returned Mr. Haveloc, "I dare say I shall not much regret losing the Somertons."

"Let me see," continued Mr. Grey, "Blanche must have been about sixteen when you left England."

"Very likely, Sir, I never attempt to guess a lady's age."

"I hardly know," said Mr. Grey, musing over his scalloped oysters, "which of them is considered the beauty; but I rather think it is Blanche."

"Oh both, my dear Sir," replied Mr. Haveloc, "Mrs. Somerton tells everybody that each of her daughters is the belle of whatever place they may be staying at."

"A great satisfaction to their mother, I am sure," said Mr. Grey, never dreaming that there was anything like satire in Mr. Haveloc's remark; "and very nice companions they will be to my little niece during the summer; perhaps we may prevail on Mrs. Somerton to spare one of her daughters sometimes to stay here for a week or two."

Mr. Haveloc knit his brows, and looked so much discomposed at this proposition that Margaret was perfectly astonished. How could it concern him if her uncle succeeded in obtaining a companion for her? Some of the wonder she felt must have made itself very visible in her face, for he turned and said to her in a constrained voice, "I hope you will find much enjoyment in the society of the Miss Somertons."

"I shall like to know them," said Margaret quietly, "but Miss Gage is kind enough to prevent my ever feeling the want of society."

"Very kind she is," said Mr. Grey; "but my love, I know young people like to be together; now, Blanche is hardly a year older than you are."

"You see," said Mr. Haveloc smiling, "that you are fated to become intimate with the Somertons."

Margaret smiled too. She recollected that at school she had made no one intimacy; and she thought it was very easily avoided with any person whom you did not completely approve--especially if you did not live under the same roof.

Nothing more was said during dinner; but in the evening when Margaret was making tea, and her uncle dozing in his arm-chair, Mr. Haveloc, contrary to his custom, took a chair next to her's, and after a short pause--for the subject was rather embarra.s.sing--said, "I am afraid you thought me guilty of some rudeness at dinner in allowing you to perceive the surprise I felt at your uncle's proposition. I am aware that I have no right to interest myself in your affairs."