Mattie:-A Stray Volume III Part 14

"That man I met at your house--he knew the story?"

"He knew the beginning of it; and for Harriet Wesden's sake--and to redeem her character in the mind of a man who has not a high estimate of women--I told the end."

Sidney sat and thought for a while. Then he p.r.o.nounced his verdict.

"All this a.s.sures me that you are easily led away--that it is only chance that has kept you from being wholly a bad man. You are weak, vacillating, and unprincipled--you are no Hinchford."

"I have tried to do my best all my life, but somehow failed," said Maurice, ruefully; "impulse has led me wrong when my heart has meant right--candidly, cousin, I have been a fool more than once. But you cannot believe that I would do harm to any human being in cold blood?"

"Possibly not. But what virtue is there in that?"

"Let me add, Sidney, that I honestly believe that I have been altering for the better for the last two years. I have seen the emptiness of all my friends' professions; their greed of gain and love of self; have turned heart-sick at their evil-speaking, lying, and slandering. I feel that I haven't a friend; that I have 'used up' all the pleasures in the world, and that there is nothing I care for in it."

"Yours is a bad state, that leads to worse, as a rule, Maurice."

"I know it--I feel it."

"And you are truly sorry for all the harm that you have done us in life--Harriet, I, and others?"

"With all my heart--truly sorry."

"I can forgive you, then. I have been taught by good friends to be more charitable in my heart towards men's motives. A year ago, I thought I should have hated you all my life."

He held forth his hand, which Maurice took and shook heartily in his.

"Understand me," said Sidney, still coldly, "I forgive you, but I do not need your help, and your presence, under any circ.u.mstances, will always give me pain. We shall never be true friends--we shall respect each other better apart."

"Is it fair to think that? You who have heard me declaim against my vain and objectless life."

"Yours is a life to rejoice at, and to do good with, not to mourn over.

Seek a wife, man, and settle down in your sphere, honoured by good men, and honouring good things."

"Ah! fair advice; but the wife will come for my money's sake, for the good things which _I_ possess, and which she and her relations will honour in their way, with all their heart, and soul, and strength!"

"Timon of Athens!" said Sidney, almost satirically.

"Sidney, I would give up all my chances for one or two true friends. You don't know what a miserable wretch I am!"

"You will be better presently. You have seen too much life lately, and the reaction has rendered you _blase_. Patience and wait. As for the wife----"

"Well?"

"Seek out Harriet Wesden again, and do her justice."

"But you----"

"She never loved me, Maurice; you were her first love, and her last. She is leading a life that is unfit for her, and you can make amends for all the shadows you have cast upon it."

"I could never face her."

"Then you are a greater coward than I thought."

"It's odd advice," he muttered; "seek out Harriet Wesden again! Oh! I know how that will end, and what 'good' will result from that. But _you_ wish it?"

"Yes," said Sidney, after a moment's further reflection.

"And her address?"

Sidney repeated it; he took it down in his pocket-book, and then rose to depart.

"I am going now. I may trouble you once again, Sidney, if you will allow me."

"As you will--if you think it necessary."

Maurice Hinchford shuffled with his feet uneasily, keeping his eyes fixed on his blind cousin.

"May I ask," he said at last, "if--if you are happy here?"

"Yes, as happy as it is possible for one in my condition to be."

"They are kind to you?"

"Very kind."

"They are a sharp couple--father and daughter--they----"

"Oh! don't speak ill of them, Maurice; you do not know them, and cannot estimate them at their just worth."

"I might endure the daughter, for hers is a pleasant sharpness that one doesn't object to; but, oh! that dreadful vigorous little parson, or whatever he is."

"Good night," said Sidney, meaningly.

"One moment--I'm off in a minute now, Sid. There's one thing I did wish just to allude to--nothing about money, mind," he added hastily, noticing Sidney's heightened colour and proud face, and remembering Mattie's previous caution.

"What is it?" asked Sidney.

"I did wish to say how sorry I was to hear of the calamity, that had befallen you--that the bad news, which was told me to-day for the first time, has shocked me very much. But you'll not believe me--you still think I'm hard, cruel, and indifferent."

"No, I don't think that. But I don't care to dwell upon a painful topic."

"And about advice--what medical advice have you had, may I ask?"

"Not any."

"No advice!--why not?"

"I was told long ago that when blindness seized me, it would be irretrievable. I was warned of its approach by an eminent man, who was not likely to make a mistake."