Evelyn Marston. By the author of 'Emilia Wyndham'

Front matter

EVELYN MAESTON. i;_ THE AUTHOR OF "EMILIA "WYNDHAM," "TWO OLD MEN'S TALES,1' &c, &c. " For we, most blest, even when to heaven we turn Eyes bright with thanks for all that makeb life dear, Even then our trembling hearts have not to learn , Of sorrows that are here — Of griefs tbat dimmed our dearest hours with tears — Of bitter memories, that seem shadowing years." W. C. Bennett. IN THEEE VOLUMES. VOL. III. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSOES TO HENEY COLBUEN, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET, 1856.

Chapter I

" Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend Towards an higher object. — Love was given. Encouraged, sanctioned chiefly for that end ; That self might be annulled. ..." Laodamia. — Wordsworth. The front of the small house occupied by Mrs. Bond was all in darkness, and appeared to be shut up for the night ; but at the back of it two lights were gleaming, one in what seemed to be the kitchen, and another in an upper window, which commanded a view of VOL. III. B the little garden, and through the white cur tains of which,] Armand could faintly dis tinguish a female figure going and coming, as if restlessly pacing the room. The unerring divination of the heart, told him who it was. He stood fixed to the spot for a short time, inhaling the joy, which the certainty of being once more near a loved one from whom we believe ourselves for ever parted, gives ; watching that fleeting shadow, as it crossed and re crossed, appeared and disappeared ; indulging the blissful assurance that they were together again, and this time to part no more.

But he was re-called to himself, by seeing the light from the kitchen window vacillating, as if about to be taken away. He went up and knocked at the door. He was answered by a voice in some trepi dation, demanding " who was there at that time of night?" " Only a messenger with a letter for Mrs. Bond, to be delivered immediately." " Mrs. Bond was gone to bed these two hours." " Was there a lady — a young lady — a Miss Marston, living with Mrs. Bond ?" " Yes ; what of that ?" " It would do as well if the letter were given to Miss Marston — If the woman was afraid to open the door," for he began to suspect the nature of the maid-servant's fears ; " he could put the letter through the casement, if she would open it a little ; but it was of consequence it should be delivered to Mrs. Bond or to Miss Marston that very night."

Oh, the impatience of lovers ! " I have half-a-crown for your trouble, if you will do this for me." Open sesame. The casement was opened, and the letter taken. Presently thereseemed to be some little agitation B in the room with the white curtain ; but he could not make out much, from the uncertain shadow which at length altogether disappeared. He stood watching some time, but the appearance did not return ; and at last the light was extin guished. The moon was setting, and had disappeared behind the woods, before he could persuade himself to leave the garden — In the meantime the letter had been delivered to Evelyn. She was told that the man who brought it had requested her to open it. She knew the hand, and her heart began to beat so violently, that she was obliged to sit down upon the first chair by the door to prevent herself from falling.

The servant girl was about to shut the door and go away. " Stay — who brought the letter ?" " A young man — as well as I could see — a gentleman, like. But he's gone away." " You may go." It was impossible to open the letter before the servant girl ; her hands trembled so, she could scarcely hold it. She got to the contents at last, and her first impulse was to fall upon her knees, in almost an agony of gratitude, and return thanks, such as she had never in her life offered before. They were restored to each other then ! no more to be parted. Her father's marriage, of which she had heard with equal astonishment and disgust, had, at least, released her from all obligations towards him, she thought, and had been the means of effecting that, which scarcely any other circumstance upon earth could have done.

It had drawn from her lover a disinterested and honourable proposal, to be rewarded, not only by her worthless self, but by a fortune, which, though nothing extravagant, would raise him and his at once to independence. Knowing this latter fact as she did, there was not a doubt about accepting Du Chastel's proposal; which, had she been as poor as he thought her, she would have felt almost insur mountable scruples in doing. All, with the exception of one cold, dark, unsatisfactory cor ner of her heart, which related to her father, and to her own conduct and violence, which she felt might have precipitated the catastrophe was happiness ineffable. Human happiness is rarely perfect even for a few brief moments in life. It is generally diminished, under the most favourable circumstances, by some fault or folly of our own — as was Evelyn Marston's now — still, upon the whole, she was boundingly happy.

The worth of her lover gave an assurance to the inner conscience, as to the justifiableness of her choice, and of her persistence in it. There all was sound and satisfactory. She would have given anything she possessed, that she had done the thing better ; that she had exer cised more self-command ; that she had found strength to carry out the good resolutions she had made — but who can resist the force of long evil habits by a first resolution ? She had soon forgotten hers, and had yielded to the vehemence of feelings, which had ended by literally a storm of passion. There is hardly any comfort in having been right in the main, when we have been wrong in the mode — but there is some comfort, nevertheless. There is a comfort in all that is right ; and she felt it. And so she passed the night in great agita tion, but intensely happy in the midst of it all ; till at last, fairly wearied out, she fell asleep, and did not awaken till the sun was darting in at her windows, and the busy birds were chirping away upon every bough.

Then she started up. It is, perhaps, one of the most painful mo ments of life, when, after a brief forgetfulness, we awaken to a renewed sense of sorrow ; it is, perhaps, one of the brightest, when cheered, refreshed, and the nerves tranquillised by sleep, we open our eyes to joy. What a world it seemed to the sensitive, fresh-hearted Evelyn, as she sprang from her pillow. The sun was risen very bright — but what was that, compared to the brightness of her spirit ? The morning wind, which blew freshly through her window, was very exhilarating ; but what was that, to the spirit within ? The plants, the trees, the flowers, the birds, the two little kittens playing upon the tiny grass plat below, were gladsome and gay ; but what was that, compared to her yonng, immeasurable happiness? Every least action, as everything around her, seemed filled with a spirit of new delight, from the sweetness coming through her open win dow, to the pleasure of gathering together the profusion of her waving hair — the arraying it round a face beaming with hope and peace, and the choosing among the different pretty articles of a wardrobes prodigal to excess, what might best suit the taste of her lover.

Joy made her good ; joy made her pious. She fell upon her knees, and with an earnest ness to tears which, perhaps, she had never felt before, poured forth her thanks to the Giver of all the bliss of a blissful world. Humble prayers to be forgiven for what she had done wrong succeeded ; and humble promises to drive from her heart every bitter and adverse feeling ; to make peace with her father upon any terms, and be his dutiful child to the end of her days. Peace upon any terms did not, of course, in clude the sacrifice of that which was the source of all this good and joy. She never thought of doing that. Under her present circumstances, she did not believe that duty in the least demanded from her ; and I cannot say that I think she was far wrong. She was a little nervous and fluttered at the idea of meeting so soon ; but all that was really awkward and distressing in the relations under which they stood, had vanished.

Nothing remained to be cleared up but his misconception with respect to her fortune; a charming mis take she should be in no hurry to remove. It put both quite in the right place ; and, oh ! the delight of, in due time, undeceiving the generous suitor, and endowing him with that to which he had been so nobly indifferent. " My dear," said Nurse Bond, as Evelyn sat down to breakfast, " what's come to you ? You seem all in a fluster ; yet I never saw you look so pretty in my 'life. Dear me ! I hope, poor love, you've had a little pleasant news. Something to make up for your troubles — You look so happy." " Do I look happy, good woman ? Well, I am very happy." "I'm glad you can be — very glad," said Mrs. Bond, rather crossly, in spite of her pro fessions. She was herself far from having di gested Mr. Marston's marriage, though all for the poor child's sake, as she declared to herself; and she could not feel at all pleased to see that dear child apparently recovering from a misfortune, for which she did not intend herself to be — nor thought any one else ought to be — con soled.

" I'm glad to see you can be so happy, Miss Marston, after all ; but your true friends find it more difficult to make up their minds to your troubles, than you yourself do, Miss Evelyn, it seems." " Oh ! dear, good woman, don't let us think of all that disagreeableness now ! Dear Bond, I'll tell you by and by what makes me so happy." Listening all the time for the little door bell. Jumping up from her chair, impatient to look out of the window ; and then sitting down again, ashamed of her impatience, and afraid of being seen if he should be coming. " Oh, dear ! Miss Marston, don't think I'm sorry to see you happy. I'm sure I'm as glad as can be, only I am a little surprised." A ring at the tinkling bell in the passage. Starting up ; sitting down again ; colour changing rapidly ; fluttering heart ; sort of foolish fear lest the girl should send him away.

What shall she do then ? Mere vain terror of the over-excited nerves. The door opens, " A gentleman, to speak to Miss Marston." " Oh, show him in ! Show him into the dining parlour — I'll come and speak to him there... Show him in there." " Gentleman ! Who in the name of fortune can that be ?" But the dining-room door closes, and she has already left the room. It opens again, and a being radiant as the morning light presents itself, beaming with love, innocence, trust, and joy. One such moment is enough to endow a life. We shall not intrude upon the first sacred felicity when heart meets heart ; the barriers of reserve and distance are thrown down, and it is one blissful flow of unbounded confidence, and interchange of thought and feeling . . . when two made to be one, feel themselves one.

There was nothing to disguise now, and no thing was disguised. Only one thing did Evelyn keep back — her fortune. She let her lover enjoy the felicity of thinking that he was offering an asylum to one in all probability homeless, when he wooed her to be his. It made all so easy, so natural, so right. So she let him talk away of the future, and of the sacrifices she would have to make, and of his hopes, and his means, as happy lovers on equality talk ; and she smiled to herself to think how it really was. That night, however, our prudent Evelyn, who was now come to attach the highest value to a fortune, for which, till lately, she had not in the least cared, wrote to a certain old Mr. Frere, who she happened once accidentally to have heard was one of her mother's trustees ; and really, except the amount of her fortune, this was almost all that had reached her upon the subject.

She wrote, therefore, to Mr. Frere, to ask for a little more definite information. An in quiry, which the circumstance of her father's degrading marriage seemed to render proper and natural. She had seen Mr. Frere once, she recollected, at her aunt Fitzroy's ; but that was all she knew of him. He was an old-fashioned sort of gentleman — an old bachelor — had seemed fond of her for the sake of her mother, and had made a few good-natured, but rather dull, jokes about [being her trustee, and his in tention to look sharp after any one she should marry. Mrs. Fitzroy, the reader may as well be in formed, was at this time at Rio Janeiro, having married, shortly after we saw her in London, a gentleman who was at this time holding an official situation there. This will account for Miss Marston having no place of refuge open to her at her aunt's house, when turned out by her father.

To return to the letter to Mr. Frere. Evelyn recollected sundry of the above-men tioned dull jokes, which had vexed her proud and irritable spirit at the time. She hated such stale common-places most thoroughly ; and she had taken up the idea that Mr. Frere was a meddling, vulgar, old twaddler, and so she felt an invincible repugnance to making him a confidant as regarded her present intentions. The only fact she wished to ascertain could be answered at once, without leading necessarily to any farther explanation. Mr. Frere's letter was some days in arriving ; but at last it came. "Mr. Frere to Miss Marston. "My Dear Young Lady, " I am confined to my bed by a sharp attack of rheumatic gout, or I would not have been so many days, I assure you, without an swering your very proper and pretty letter.

" After the step my good friend, your father, has thought proper to take, equally to the asto nishment and vexation of all his friends, I have nothing to say but that I am very glad to have had even the small share I took in your mo ther's settlement, by accepting a trusteeship on her behalf. " Not that I can take any credit to myself for trouble expended upon that account, for I have of course had nothing to do in the business from that hour to this. The settlement was arranged with your grandfather's — mother's father's sanction — Mr. Marston being allowed the use of certain of the monies upon giving his bond for forty thousand pounds, to be paid to your mother upon his death ; or, supposing he survived her, to be divided among such children as she might leave behind, each child to receive its several portion on coming of age.

Mr. Marston, if I recollect right, not to be chargeable with interest between the mother's death and that date. " Of course you being the only surviving child, the whole devolves upon you ; and I must say, under existing circumstances, I rejoice that you have this independence secured ; for I am led to believe that the present Mrs. Marston, according to the fashion of the most worthless of her sex, aided by the infatuation of ours, ex ercises a very undue influence, and one very much to be lamented, over her now husband. This might have occasioned all sorts of un pleasant perplexities to you, if it had not been in your power to hold yourself independent of her. " I hope in a few days to be up and about again, and to settle this matter to your satisfacvol. in. c tion. I am ashamed to say I have forgotten the name of the solicitor employed ; but I will write to Mr. Marston myself and obtain the necessary information, and see that you are put in possession of your property as soon as possible.

" In the meantime, do not hesitate to draw upon me for any money you may want at the present. You need make no scruple ; first, because it is owing to the state of my health that you will not be put into possession quite so speedily as might be desirable ; and secondly, as it will be in your power to repay me in the course of a few weeks at farthest. " I shall be quite hurt if you will not make a friend of me in this as in every other accepta tion of the word . " Yours, faithfully, " My dear Miss Marston, " John Frere." It was a life of remorses, great and small ; and there was a little remorse for her hard judgment of Mr. Frere. She must accept an obligation from him which was slight indeed, and which, but for these little twinges within, being so kindly offered, would have been with equal pleasure accepted.

Now it occasioned a secret pain. But anything was preferable at this moment to applying to her father; indeed, she did not know where he was. The hundred pounds he had sent had already been mostly expended in paying a few old bills of her own ; she must have a little ready money for the necessary expenses of her marriage. So she wrote to Mr. Frere a very pretty letter, which pleased the old gentleman extremely, and borrowed two hundred pounds. He sent the money by a check upon his banker, drawn with more satisfaction than any check I verily believe that he ever drew in his life, for Evelyn Marston had the gift of pleasing every body. Enviable gift ! c Behold, then, the two lovers ; their wedding day fixed, and all their little arrangements hap pily made, under the influence of that charm which renders even the choosing a paper or se lecting the pattern of a tea-cup a source of delight.

When it actually came to the planning where they should take a house, and what their little establishment ought to consist of, and when Evelyn saw the pain her lover felt at the idea of the very, very modest scheme of economy, not to say of privation, which prudence would render necessary ; then, and not till then, she. persuaded herself to tell him with a smile that he need not be so scrupulous, for that he was not going to marry the Beggar of Bethnal Green, but a young lady with forty thousand pounds secured to her. They by this time so thoroughly and entirely understood each other, and had so completely entered into that blessed confidence and unre serve, which is the sweetest, as it is the strongest tie between man and wife, that he received this intelligence with as much, and just the same sort of satisfaction as if they had been struggling together for years.

He accepted most gratefully, as one among so many gracious gifts bestowed upon him, the power of indulging the generous creature whose attachment was the pride and glory of his soul, in those little luxu ries which custom had made almost necessaries, and the idea of depriving her of which, had occasioned many a pang, and marred his almost perfect felicity. She was delighted with seeing him take it so simply and easily. It was the last little reserve that had remained between them. Now, all was complete, and their bliss was as perfect as their hearts were faithful and true. And so fleeted away a month from the time of her first entering Mrs. Bond's house, which was in a separate parish from Don nington Abbey. And the day fixed for their marriage arrived. But, long before that day came, Armand, who had felt considerable uneasiness at the idea of exposing his Evelyn to possible misconstruc tion, and yet who felt it impossible to tear him self away from her, had persuaded her to allow him to ask his friend, Anne Duglas, to join him at the little village inn.

She might thus act as a sort of mother and chaperon to Miss Marston in her present peculiar situation, — a passage of life where some one female friend, mother, aunt, sister, cousin, something near and dear, seems almost indispensable. She coloured when he mentioned the subject. She was a little susceptible and jealous of any reference to her present destitution. She felt as all young women of delicacy must have felt with regard to it. " Oh, certainly ! — undoubtedly ! — if you think it right. Anything you think right ; but who is this Miss Dudas ?" O " You are not hurt at me, Evelyn ? — not angry with me?" looking anxiously at the mount ing colour of her cheeks. " I am always afraid you are secretly blaming me. " Nay, my love ; put ' secretly' out of your vocabulary. If I had reason to blame my Eve lyn, I love her too entirely to do it secretly.

Every thought of my heart is hers, and she knows it. Our situation is strange, my dear girl, and quite out of the common rule — by no fault of ours — happily for us. Let this be an earnest of what my Miss Marston..." " Oh ! now you are really angry — Miss Marston !" " My own, then — of what she may expect through life. I feared it might vex you, yet I ventured to speak out. My love, when I risk the vexing you, I risk incurring the great est pain that it is possible for me to feel ; but I do it now, and will ever do it, when I think I ought. Sweet ! generous ! unsuspecting crea ture ! But you are the mark of all the eyes in this little place, and I never have the enjoyment of walking out with you, but I feel I am doing wrong, so let us have Anne ; she loves me, and I am sure she will come, and her presence will set everything right, till that blessed of all days arrives, when there can be nothing to be set right or wrong between us."

" But who is this Anne Duglas ? — Old or young ? and what is she like ?" " Do you remember the night and day spent at my father's house ? Yes, I know you do," as she lifted up her eyes to his, with a little re proachful — " You know whether I did or not — " expression. " Yes, yes, I know you do ; well then, Anne Duglas was..." " Oh ! was she that dear, gentle, rather mid dle-aged lady, very tiny and very pale ; and not pretty, but charming beyond measure — that was so excessively good to me then ? Why did you not tell me that, Armand, at first ? Yes, I shall be glad to see her. I can't love people very easily, I believe, and I don't like to be with those I don't love, when I can help it, that is... but I love her already, and shall love her more and more, I am sure. Oh ! beg her to come, by all means, if she will be so very good ; and to be my mother, and friend, and adviser, and fault-finder, as you dislike that disagreeable office so much, Armand. — I know well, nobody will ever find it a sinecure."

The doctor was dead, and with the death of her brother, Anne Duglas's means had been very much straitened ; still she continued, by strict economy, to make a very narrow income, not only suffice for herself, but afford the means of exercising charity among her poor neigh bours, whom the vicinity in which she had been born and bred threw in her way. Du Chastel knew she could ill afford to make the journey at her own expense, but his present prospects rendered all little matters of this sort of no im portance. He had done for life with that close frugality which makes it a duty to weigh the cost of every trifle; and oh, what a relief he found it ! It was like being released from a strait bandage over the chest, which impedes motion, action, almost thought — he breathed freely once more, and his heart, no longer crushed and compressed by that cold hand of excessive in digence, expanded with a delightful freedom.

What he must have thought it right to have done under other circumstances, it is needless to inquire; as it was, he wrote to his friend to request her assistance ; a request which was cheerfully granted, and Anne Duglas was soon quietly quartered at the Black Bear. The fancy Evelyn had taken to her at their first meeting years ago, strengthened into a cordial affection and an esteem approaching to reverence when they met again. She had been brought into communication with but few women in the course of her life, and it may be truly said, that among those few there was not one single woman of merit. Merit is an attraction which draws its like towards it ; but it must be by some fortunate accident indeed, when demerit attaches to it self worthy friends. Mr. Marston, with his low moral taste, and common-place view of life ; his vulgar love of finery, luxury, shew ; and especially of those conventional necessities, which he thought appertained to a man of for tune — had selected the persons who were to have charge of his daughter's education, in a way that might have been expected ; and, if there was fortunately little really wrong in those put about her, there was little to win the affection, and nothing to ensure or secure the respect.

We have seen how like some fine, vigorous plant, Evelyn had grown up in a wild, un checked luxuriance, which had nevertheless a power about it, not without its value, and assuredly not without its charm. If she had learned little that was good, she had escaped what was radically false or bad. A certain jealous pride upon the part of her father, had prevented her associating much with other girls of her age. He looked upon those who happened to live within reach, and upon terms of visiting with his family — mostly small manufacturers — with considerable disdain, and as unfit to associate upon equal terms with his daughter; so Evelyn had had little commu nication with any of them ; and had, in this respect, as in so many others, been left to the uninfluenced development of her faculties. One of her good qualities was, a most warm, ardent admiration for what she approved and liked.

We have seen how far enthusiasm, founded upon the deep, holy sentiment of respect for his moral worth, had influenced her with regard to Armand. The sudden sympa thy which drew her to Anne Duglas was of the same nature. These were happy days to all parties. Of EVELYN MARSTON. Armand's felicity let lovers speak. Anne Duglas was very happy, in the prospects of the man she loved as women love a son — and, perhaps, had a still greater satisfaction — it was such a new and pleasant feeling — in the affectionate attachment of the beautiful and brilliant young creature, who seemed to think nothing of her own merits, and to have formed such a partial estimate of those of her friends. It was now the latter end of summer, and the weather was perfection. These three spent almost the whole of their time out of doors together.

They did not scruple to enter the deserted park at Donnington, and to enjoy the magnifi cence of the more distant woods, though they forbore to approach the house. They used to walk or sit for hours under the splendid beech-trees for which Donnington was celebrated, which, towering like huge cathedrals of branches to an enormous height, stretched out their stately arms against the deep blue of the sky, casting their shadows upon the warm brown of the crisped leaves beneath them. The women used to take their work — for Evelyn was beginning to learn the value of time, and sat whilst Armand read aloud — or they would walk and talk discussing things and subjects of deepest interest, all new and delight ful to her. It was like a fresh world ; it was like being admitted into heaven, to the company of angels, so it seemed to her.