Second Love: or, Beauty and Intellect. A novel

Chapter I

There are few pleasures more innocent, or rather, let me boldly say at once, that there can be no pleasure more innocent than that which we derive from the contemplation of beautiful scenery ; it may, indeed, occasionally involve some danger to life or limb, but I know of no moral evil to which it can lead us, and this is saying quite enough to justify aU the labour and cost which we bestow, year after yrear, in pursuit of it. Yet, in saying no more of it, we should faU VOL. I. B far short of doing the subject justice ; for eloquent sermons might be preached, and glorious hymns might be sung, both to demon strate the spiritual profit that we derive from it, and to thank the Bounteous Giver of all Good for sending an awakening call for love and praise to our hearts through a medium so fraught with innocent enjoyment.

Those persons are greatly mistaken, I think, who in their moral estimate of the English people attribute to restlessness, and a mere love of locomotion, the strong predilection for travelling for which we are noted; at any rate it would be but fair, when more causes than one suggest themselves in explanation of the fact, to give us occasionally credit for being influenced by such as are the most respectable. And, in truth, it would be difficult to acquit any one of a propensity to form a perverse judgment, who could have seen the little family party which I am about to present to the reader, without attributing to them some higher motive for bringing themselves to the spot where we shall find them, than anything which could have been produced by a mere inclination to move from one place to another.

This party consisted of four persons, three of them ladies, and the fourth a gentleman, whose tall and dignified aspect and highly intelligent countenance precluded all possibility of sus picion that he was idly wandering along the fine mountain-road that leads from Glengarif to KiUarney, with no higher purpose than that of removing from one place and getting to another. Of the three ladies who were with him one was his wife, and the two others his daughters. It would have been impossible that any eye at all practised in discerning to what order and class in society all the unknown individuals it encounters are likely to belong, should feel any doubt, after the very first glance, that Mr. Selcroft was a clergyman. Nevertheless, he was not one of those who, under the influence of the unfortunate schism which now unhap pily divides our church, have recourse to a peculiar form of waistcoat in order unmis- B SECOND LOYE, OR takeably to distinguish themselves as much by outward appearance as by inward conviction from their little-esteemed brethren adversaries.

Mr. Selcroft did not even wear a white neckcloth — at least not on the Glengarif road on a stormy morning. Nevertheless, Mr. Selcroft looked too decidedly like a clergyman to have been easily mistaken for anything else. His lady was a very pretty, lady-like looking person, and his daughters were, as might naturally be expected, prettier still; for the eldest of the two was just one-and-twenty, and the youuger somewhat more than two years her junior. Their conveyance was a common Irish car, the construction of which obliged the family to divide themselves somewhat unsociably, two being on one side of it, and two on the other. But, even so, they contrived to enjoy the striking scenes through which they were passing with more of equality than might have been expected, considering that the wild mountain view upon which every eye not very strangely constituted must gaze with delight, spread itself before the father and youngest daughter on one side, while the mother and the eldest girl had their eyes turned wholly away from it as they sat.

But Mrs. Selcroft, though the very gentlest being in the world, and unfeignedly contented to recede upon all occasions from any claim she might have to what was first or best, was almost as ready witted as she was gently tempered, and no sooner perceived the nature and amount of the privation which being on the off-side of the car inflicted on her and her daughter Lucy, than she proposed, and executed with great activity, the clever scheme of kneeling upon the seat they occupied, and by this means, though not quite at their ease perhaps, they contrived to get sight of the vapoury, mysterious-looking valley which divided them from the sullen barrier of dark mountains which formed their horizon. There is a strange, uncouth wildness in this mountain scenery which is very exciting to the imagination even in fair weather, and when no sound ruder than the murmuring of a soft summer gale is heard amidst its deep solitudes ; but the day on which the Selcroft family were removing themselves from Glengarif to Kil larney, the atmosphere was exactly in the state to exhibit the romantic peculiarities of the scene with the greatest effect.

The wind was rising when the party left Glengarif, but there was at that time no rain, and Mr. Selcroft fancied that they should have nothing worse to encounter than the fitful blasting of a summer gale, which, though it might have been alarming if encountered on the beautiful lake to which they were proceed ing, was not likely, he thought, to annoy them much on terra firm a. But herein Mr. Selcroft reckoned without his host ; for his host just then was the spirit of the mountain, and such a mountain as none but a stranger in the land could have looked upon without a sort of trembling suspicion that if the spirit of any storm should happen to pay a visit to it, they were likely to make wild work together in their gambols. It is rarely, in any weather, that the eye can penetrate all the deep, mysterious hollows of that vapoury region.

Cloud and mist seem ever to be wandering there, and so sudden and so fitful are the blasts which are conti nually playing their mad freaks among them, that at one moment you are looking down into a sort of misty vacuum that has no visible boundary, and in the next, ere you can say 'tis gone, huge mountains, of purple blackness, start up, and stare at you, as it were, with their stern iron aspect, and seem so close upon you that, did they make a second step for wards, much less violent than the first, they must inevitably crush you to atoms, and then bury you for ever. But as yet, while the car was slowly gain ing the highest point of road, no stranger to the region was at aU likely to be aware of what might be expected to follow the sort of sullen stillness that seemed to have taken pos session of it.

The traveUers had been afready electrified by the partial disappearance of the mist at different points of the landscape, and the sudden appearance in its stead of sundry promontories aud precipices, which were invisible the moment before. But though this produced an effect both strange and startling, there was much more of interest than alarm excited by the contemplation of it ; and the father, mother, and daughters, were all strain ing their eyes to penetrate iuto the depths of the vaUey, with a smile of pleased surprise on every face as they watched the variations which each moment seemed to produce iu the scene before them. But suddenly these amusing effects of the vanishing, and again returning, mist, ceased altogether; a dark lurid cloud appeared to envelop every object with one uniform, misty veil, which rested motionless, and with equal density, upon the valley im mediately beneath them, and upon the distant mountains which enclosed it.

" What a very strange climate this seems to be," said Mrs. Selcroft ; " it does not continue the same for two minutes together." " And where is aU the wind gone V said Lucy. " It was howling, only a few minutes ago, as if every cave on the hill-side were the dwelling of a whole settlement of lions and tigers. Aud now everything is as still as death." At the very instant that she ceased speaking, the deep stillness which had excited her wonder ceased too, and a long, loud, wild blast of wind swept over them, which not only overwhelmed, but silenced their voices — for they were terror-struck. The mist from the valley was suddenly cleared away as if by magic, and every bush and bramble, every tree and shrub, nay, the very stunted grass itself, became agitated, and thrown into such violent movement, that Lucy exclaimed, iu an accent half playful, half ter rified, " The whole world seems going into convulsions !"

Another moment, however, sufficed to chase all playfulness, and left an unmixed feeling of terror with them all, for the dim air seemed for an instant to be set on fire, so bright was the tremendous flash of lightning that burst upon them. The roaring, rattling thunder clap rather accompanied, than followed it, and there was not one of the party, horse included, who did not feel the awful consciousness of being in the very birth-place of the storm. No one spoke, but the hand of Louisa had unconsciously grasped that of her father, and the arm of the mother was thrown round Lucy. Flash followed flash, and ere one burst of thunder had ceased to roar, another fol lowed it, all being reverberated by the sur rounding hills till the whole earth seemed uttering one universal groan. There was a great deal of very grand subli mity in the sight, and in the sound; but the Selcroft family were, one and all, much too seriously terrified to relish it; nor was this terror lessened by the return of the mist which the gusty wind had driven from the vaUey; but it was no longer mist alone which rendered it difficult to discern any object at the dis tance of a dozen yards, for the rain now fell in torrents, and seemed almost to blind both horse and driver, for both hung down their heads as if the looking about them could be of no further use ; and the horse continued to trot, and the driver to whip, very much as if they did not very well know what they were about.

But if the horse, the driver, and the driven, were one and aU too much overpowered in spirit by the violence of the storm to know very weU where they were, or what they were about, it was not so with all whom accident had placed on the Glengariff road on that tempestuous morning ; for one solitary figure had become visible as the carriage approached it, the attitude and aspect of which spoke more of excitement and admiration than of terror. It was that of a young man, and, notwithstanding his lank locks and dripping garments, very evidently that of a handsome man, who, not contented by what he could see of the elemental uproar from the level of the road, had stationed himself on an isolated hiUock which enabled him to look over the low fence which at that point skirted the precipice into the very deepest hollows of the vaUey beneath which instant seen and instant gone, as the vivid lightnings blazed, and passed away-, appeared to fascinate his gaze with all the charm of half-seen mystery.

Whether it were the sudden apparition of this tall, conspicuous figure before the eyes of the poor storm-buffetted horse, or that the vivid flash which occurred at the same moment met the eye of the startled animal more than any which had preceded it, may be doubtful; but certain it is that, at the moment the car passed the conspicuous figure of the storm gazer, the unlucky beast gave a sudden spring across the road, aud thereby turned the vehicle round so briskly that Louisa, who was quite unprepared for such a movement, was jerked from her seat by it, and, to the terror of her Startled family-, was left stretched upon the ground, while during a dreadful minute or two they were drawn too rapidly away from her to permit of their making any immediate effort to leave the carriage. The terrified mother and sister uttered a fearful scream, which, if not exactly echoed by- Mr. Selcroft, was at least accompanied by such an exclamation from him as indicated as much alarm as any scream could have done, aud, with as little delay as was consistent with prudence, he contrived to extricate himself from the violently jolting car, and to run back to his prostrate daughter.

However earnest the gaze, or however subhme the admiration, with which the young stranger by the road side had been contem plating the storm, this catastrophe effectually restored his presence of mind; which was proved by his dashing with great velocity after the car, which it was evident the driver could not contrive to stop, instead of flying to the prostrate young lady, who was already supported in the arms of her father. To her it was very evident that he could be of no use, to the other ladies he might ; and great was their joy and their gratitude, when his vigorous arm succeeded in making the restive steed stand still, while they disem barrassed themselves from what they con ceived to be a very dangerous situation. Cer tain it is that the horse would have run away had he been possessed of as much power as will to do it; for he was horribly frightened, and shook all over like an aspen leaf.

But hired car-horses are not more likely to run away in Ireland, than hackney-coach horses in England; so he was speedily brought to rea son, and left in a tolerably composed state of mind in the hands of the driver, while the young stranger joined the group round the stdl recumbent Louisa.

Chapter II

Nothing could be much more romantic, if I correctly understand the meaning of that rather silly-sounding word, than the situation of the parties I have now introduced to the reader, as well as the aspect of the scene which surrounded them. Louisa Selcroft was a very, very pretty girl, and though at that moment her cheeks and lips were as colourless as the blossom of the beUa donna hly, she scarcely looked less lovely now than when, as was the case on ordinary occasions, the tint of the rose was blended with it. The abounding ringlets of her silky, light brown hair which had been pushed back by her father as her uncovered head rested on his arm, hung in beautiful disorder upon her shoulders ; and there was something so touch ingly helpless in her attitude, aud so con fidingly resigned in the expression of her sweet features as her cheek lay upon her father's breast, that it would have been difficult for any eye to have contemplated her with indifference.

SmaU chance, theu, had Henry Harley, the fortunate youth whom accident had brought to the assistance of the party at this critical moment; small chance had Henry Harley of escaping the conviction that the sweet droop ing flower which he then looked upon was the most perfect specimen of female loveliness that nature ever formed. Every accident, every circumstance of the scene, added effect to its interest and its beauty. The strange mixture of light and darkness that filled the air, made the exceeding fairness of the almost fainting girl appear so brilliant, that she truly seemed to be the point from which the light of the picture emanated. . . . The tender alarm expressed by the handsome features of the father. . . . the wild, dimly-lighted majesty of the deep valley. . . . the bare, bold, lofty outline of the surrounding hills, together with the howl ing wind, the pelting rain, the frequent lightning, and the grumbling roar of the thunder, that came upon them with the con tinual aggravation of unnumbered echoes, altogether produced so overpowering an effect upon the young man, who was himself the most romantic of mortals, that the only clear and distinct feeling of wliich he was conscious was a conviction that the hour was come in which the destiny of his future life was to be for ever decided.

Fortunately, however, the propriety of his manner was not affected by the poetical en thusiasm of his emotions. The kind, lady-like tone of Mrs. Selcroft's voice, and the rational composure of her words, as she bent over her daughter, kissed her forehead, and took her vol. i. c hand, did much towards enabling him to com pose his spirits. " Dearest Louisa ! How fortunate that the seat of that queer carriage was so near the ground," said she. "Look up, dearest! There is nothing to alarm you now." Louisa, brought back to life, as it seemed, by her mother's voice, opened her beautiful eyes, and smiled. " Thank God!" exclaimed Henry Harley, very fervently. Mr. Selcroft raised his eyes, with an ap proving glance, to the young man's face. "You teach us, young gentleman," said he, " what the first words are which we ought to utter.

We should, indeed, thank God." And with raised eyes, and clasped hands, Mr. Sel croft pronounced an extemporary form of thanksgiving, foUowed by an extemporary prayer for such a communication of Divine light to their souls as might enable them all to improve the accident which had befallen them into a means of grace and sanctification. The mind of Henry Harley was of a truly pious, adoring, and thankful nature, and the "thank God!" which he had uttered arose from the depth of his heart; but he was startled by the long and fervent out-pouring of Mr. Selcroft's feelings, and he felt that sort of awkward shyness which is apt to creep upon us when we suddenly and abruptly feel ourselves placed in a new or unexpected situation. His eyes, which, to say the truth, had been pretty steaddy fixed upon Louisa, were now turned upon the ground, and he heartily wished the next few minutes were over, as he scarcely knew how he ought to conduct himself under circumstances so novel.

The solemn and elaborate prayer pronounced by Mr. Selcroft appeared to Harley to de mand some little interval after its conclusion before the parties, engaged in uttering and listening to it, could resume their ordinary tone of intercourse with each other. But no feeling of this kind appeared to affect either Mr. Selcroft himself, or any of his famdy. Louisa most fortunately was per fectly uninjured by her fall, and the faintness c occasioned by sudden terror having completely passed away, she answered all the inquiries addressed to her in a tone of sweet and youthful cheerfulness that completely banished every feeling of alarm for her safety. The manner of Mrs. Selcroft was then, as ever, the very perfection of amiable, equable, unvarying gentleness ; and that of Lucy, the eldest daughter, had, constitutionally as it should seem, too large a proportion of gaiety in it to place her under any circumstances in danger of betraying any very serious emotions.

Henry Harley, therefore, was speedily relieved from his little embarrassment; but the storm went flashing, howling, pelting on, and the piteous plight to which the draperies of the three ladies were reduced, each of them having herself become a sort of passing shower, induced him, as the horse was now standing most profoundly still, to urge them to replace themselves in the car, and hasten, with all the speed they could make, to the nearest shelter. " And what is to become of you, my young friend?" said Mr. Selcroft, addressing Henry, in a tone of friendly interest. " I shall do perfectly well, my dear sir," replied the young man. " I have been already three weeks in Ireland, walking, upon an average, about twenty miles a day ; and get ting wet to the skin in a passing shower is by no means a novelty to me.

I shaU get back to my old quarters at Killarney in ex cellent good time for dinner." " To Killarney?" returned Mr. Selcroft. " We, also, are goiug to Killarney. I wish we could manage to be of any use to you; but I fear that our queer vehicle would prove incapable of holding five, were we to make the attempt." " Do not dream of such a thing, my dear sir," replied the young man, eagerly. " But to prove to you," he added, " that my dress, light as it looks, can keep out water, and shelter pasteboard," — (and, as he spoke, he drew a card-case from his waistcoat pocket,) — '■* I will beg permission to present my card, and also to inquire for your party to-morrow morning." The card was courteously received ; and then the young stranger ventured to offer his arm to Mrs. Selcroft, to assist her through the mud to the spot where the car was stationed.

The beautiful Louisa had already taken the arm of her father for support, and Lucy very contentedly followed alone. When Harley, however, held out his hand to assist Mrs. Selcroft to mount the car, Louisa perceived that it was his left hand that was extended for the purpose. " I am afraid you have hurt yourself?" she said. " Oh no ! Nothing that deserves the name of a hurt," he replied, still keeping his right hand in his bosom. " You have strained your wrist, I am sure!" exclaimed Mr. Selcroft. " You strained it in stopping the horse." " I believe I did," replied Harley, quietly. " Then you positively must not put yourself in a fever by walking to Killarney," said Mr. Selcroft. "Neither of the three ladies take much room. You can all three sit on one side, can you not?" The three ladies had but one voice, as they eagerly replied in the affirmative; but the young man was not to be tempted by the flattering proposal.

He did not wish, how ever, that this refusal should check the progress of the acquaintance ; and, quite as much to prevent this, as to spare himself fatigue, he said, "I shall probably be at Killarney as soon as you are, but you would greatly aid my progress if you would have the kindness to convey my knapsack." This was of course most readily agreed to, and having arranged such summer wraps as they had, to the best advantage, and heartily shaken their dripping umbrellas, the Selcroft family repacked themselves in the car, the father and mother assuring their new acquant ance very cordially that they should hope to see him again at Killarney, while the fair daughters, by their friendly smiles, very intel ligibly repeated the invitation ; and then they drove off, leaving the young man standing in the middle of the road, with his straw hat very gracefully held above his head, though it was done with his left hand.

Chapter III

The vehemence of the storm was by this time over; rain still fell, but softly, and lightly; the wind was hushed, the lightning passed away, and the thunder slept. For a short time the unsociably divided family contented themselves by conversing in pairs, but they had all too much to say to each other to endure this long, for they were really and truly a very united family ; and by the time the rain had ceased entirely, and the sun had began to shine a little, they had contrived to turn themselves about, and to twist themselves round sufficiently to make their conversation pretty general. " Has not this turned out well in the way of a really romantic adventure?" said Mr. Selcroft, laughing. " We ha-vi evidently laid the foundation-stone of a very sentimental friendship with this young gentleman, and that, too, without even knowing his name."

" If you do not know his name, papa, it is your own fault," said Lucy ; " for you have got it in your pocket." " Most true ! and here it is, ladies very simple, very concise; Henry Harley, neatly printed in capital letters ; but, for your sakes, I am sorry to say, unaccompanied by any address that might assist you to satisfy your very natural curiosity." " I do not think any address could do much for us in that way," said Louisa ; " for it could do no more than indicate that he was a gentleman, and on that point I should suppose we must be all pretty well satisfied already." " He certainly has the air and manner of a gentleman," returned her father. " Don't you think so, my dear?" he added, twisting him self round so as to be heard on the other side of the unsociable vehicle. "Yes, indeed," replied Mrs. Selcroft; "both his look and manner are very gentlemanlike, and I have no doubt that he is a gentleman, though probably not a very wealthy one."

" And why not ?" replied Mr. Selcroft. "Because he was walking instead of being in such a thing as this ? Is that your reason ." " No, my dear, I don't mean that, I assure you. I am perfectly well satisfied with this carriage myself, though I confess I do not think it very aristocratic," replied the lady ; "but though I can easily understand that an active young man might prefer walking, I really do not think that any gentleman would choose to carry his own baggage, unless he were too poor to pay any one else for doin6 it. Besides, William, dear, the style of his dress, you kuow, was certainly hardly respect able. What do you think, Lucy ?" " Oh ! I'm sure I don't know," replied Lucy. "And what did you think of his toilet, Louisa?" said Mrs. Selcroft, contriving to touch the shoulder of her youngest daughter with the end of her parasol.

"I was too much frightened, mama, to think about his dress," replied Louisa ; " but it certainly never entered my head to think that it was not the dress of a gentleman." " Mercy on me, my dear child ! Wiiat are you talking about ?" replied her mother. " Why, he had a regular carter's frock on, Louisa, only it w-as made of tolerably fine brown holland instead of white coarse dowlas ; but it was a carter's frock for all that ; and his straw-hat is exactly the same as the English hay -makers use. I thiuk it is very likely that he is the son of a better sort of a gentleman-farmer, and I should not be at all surprised to find that he had been at college, on account of his particularly good manners. Aud then, I can tell you all, that his being so remarkably handsome may have more to do than you are aware of, in leading you to suppose that he is well-born.

By-the-bye, I should not be at all surprised if it turned out that he was going to be ordained ; for it is quite a certain fact, that, taken as a body, the clergy are more gentlemanlike in their appearance than any other set of men who have only an equal share of this world's wealth to boast of." "If that last suggestion be correct, my dear," said Mr. Selcroft, "and I really think you seem to have reasoned with your usual sagacity, — if that last suggestion be correct, he will of course deserve a greater degree of attention from us in return for his civility, than we should think of showing under any other circumstances." " I feel almost sure that he is a clergyman !" exclaimed Louisa, almost in a wrhisper. "I own I think it very likely," said her father, with a gentle smile. " And you, Lucy," he added, raising his voice, " you are sharp-sighted enough, sometimes.

What do you think he is ?" " Oh ! I'm sure I don't know, papa ; but I can't say that 'I think he looks like a clergyman ; but he may be what you call a stage player, perhaps, or he may be a gentleman of family and fortune," replied Lucy, in a tone of great indifference. " A stage-player, my child !" replied Mr. Selcroft, gravely. " What can have put so very painful an idea into your head? I believe it, however, to be utterly devoid of foundation." " Dear papa ! what can you know about stage-players ?" said Lucy, innocently. " I do not believe that you ever saw one in your life." " StiU, Lucy, I am unwUling to believe any thing of the kind of a fellow creature without better grounds for it than mere conjecture. However, it will unquestionably be my duty to be very cautious," said Mr. Selcroft, gravely.

" It is not a subject to be treated jestingly. What could have suggested such a frightful idea to you ?" " I am sure I don't know, papa," said Lucy, in a very penitent voice, but with a world of latent mischief in her merry blue eye ; " I believe that I thought he looked a little like a hero of romance, or something in that line, which is the same, I suppose, as looking theatrical — isn't it ?" Mr. Selcroft was very fond of both his daughters, and very proud of them also. He was proud of the remarkable beauty of Louisa, and full of sanguine hope as to the happy effect of its influence upon her future life. Iu plainer English, he thought it highly probable that it would be the means of her making an advantageous marriage. Of his daughter Lucy he was proud also ; but as she was less pretty, and more animated than her younger sister, it was upon her wit and general intellectual superiority that he chiefly rested his hopes of her advancement.