Alice, or the Mysteries — Book 05

								

know how Evelyn is endeared to me by certain recollections!  Perhaps,
better than you, I may be enabled silently to examine if this man be
worthy of her, and one who could secure her happiness; perhaps, better
than you I may ascertain the exact nature of her own feelings towards
him; perhaps, too, better than you I may effect an understanding with
Lord Vargrave."
"You are always my kindest friend," said the lady, with emotion; "how
much I already owe you! what hopes beyond the grave! what--"
"Hush!" interrupted the curate, gently; "your own good heart and pure
intentions have worked out your own atonement--may I hope also your own
content?  Let us return to our Evelyn.  Poor child! how unlike this
despondent letter to her gay light spirits when with us!  We acted for
the best; yet perhaps we did wrong to yield her up to strangers.  And
this Maltravers--with her enthusiasm and quick susceptibilities to
genius, she was half prepared to imagine him all she depicts him to be.
He must have a spell in his works that I have not discovered, for at
times it seems to operate even on you."
"Because," said Lady Vargrave, "they remind me of his conversation,
his habits of thought.  If like him in other things, Evelyn may
indeed be happy!"
"And if," said the curate, curiously,--"if now that you are free, you
were ever to meet with him again, and his memory had been as faithful as
yours; and if he offered the sole atonement in his power, for all that
his early error cost you; if such a chance should happen in the
vicissitudes of life, you would--"
The curate stopped short; for he was struck by the exceeding paleness of
his friend's cheek, and the tremor of her delicate frame.
"If that were to happen," said she, in a very low voice; "if we were to
meet again, and if he were--as you and Mrs. Leslie seem to think--poor,
and, like myself, humbly born, if my fortune could assist him, if my love
could still--changed, altered as I am--ah! do not talk of it--I cannot
bear the thought of happiness!  And yet, if before I die I could but
see him again!"  She clasped her hands fervently as she spoke, and the
blush that overspread her face threw over it so much of bloom and
freshness, that even Evelyn, at that moment, would scarcely have seemed
more young.  "Enough!" she added, after a little while, as the glow died
away.  "It is but a foolish hope; all earthly love is buried; and my
heart is there!"--she pointed to the heavens, and both were silent.

CHAPTER II.


QUIBUS otio vel magnifice, vel molliter, vivere copia era
incerta pro certis malebant.*--SALLUST.


* "They who had the means to live at ease, either in splendour or

    in luxury, preferred the uncertainty of change to their natural

    security."
LORD RABY--one of the wealthiest and most splendid noblemen in
England--was prouder, perhaps, of his provincial distinctions than the
eminence of his rank or the fashion of his wife.  The magnificent