Hopes and Fears or, scenes from the life of a spinster. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ think we shall forget all about it!  As if we could!  Not that I wish it to be different.  I know it would be wicked to desert papa and mamma while she is so unwell.  The truth is, Humfrey,’ and her voice sank, ‘that it cannot be while they live.’

      ‘My poor little Honor!’ he said, in a tone of the most unselfish compassion.

      She had entirely forgotten his novel aspect, and only thought of him as the kindest friend to whom she could open her heart.

      ‘Don’t pity me,’ she said in exultation; ‘think what it is to be his choice.  Would I have him give up his aims, and settle down in the loveliest village in England?  No, indeed, for then it would not be Owen!  I am happier in the thought of him than I could be with everything present to enjoy.’

      ‘I hope you will continue to find it so,’ he said, repressing a sigh.

      ‘I should be ashamed of myself if I did not,’ she continued with glistening eyes.  ‘Should not I have patience to wait while he is at his real glorious labour?  And as to home, that’s not altered, only better and brighter for the definite hope and aim that will go through everything, and make me feel all I do a preparation.’

      ‘Yes, you know him well,’ said Humfrey; ‘you saw him constantly when he was at Westminster.’

      ‘O yes, and always!  Why, Humfrey, it is my great glory and pleasure to feel that he formed me!  When he went to Oxford, he brought me home all the thoughts that have been my better life.  All my dearest books we read together, and what used to look dry and cold, gained light and life after he touched it.’

      ‘Yes, I see.’

      His tone reminded her of what had passed, and she said, timidly, ‘I forgot!  I ought not!  I have vexed you, Humfrey.’

      ‘No,’ he said, in his full tender voice; ‘I see that it was vain to think of competing with one of so much higher claims.  If he goes on in the course he has chosen, yours will have been a noble choice, Honor; and I believe,’ he added, with a sweetness of smile that almost made her forgive the if, ‘that you are one to be better pleased so than with more ordinary happiness.  I have no doubt it is all right.’

      ‘Dear Humfrey, you are so good!’ she said, struck with his kind resignation, and utter absence of acerbity in his disappointment.

      ‘Forget this, Honora,’ he said, as they were coming to the end of the pine wood; ‘let us be as we were before.’

      Honora gladly promised, and excepting for her wonder at such a step on the part of the cousin whose plaything and pet she had hitherto been, she had no temptation to change her manner.  She loved him as much as ever, but only as a kind elder brother, and she was glad that he was wise enough to see his immeasurable inferiority to the young missionary.  It was a wonderful thing, and she was sorry for his disappointment; but after all, he took it so quietly that she did not think it could have hurt him much.  It was only that he wanted to keep his pet in the country.  He was not capable of love like Owen Sandbrook’s.

* * * * *

      Years passed on.  Rumour had bestowed Mr. Charlecote of Hiltonbury on every lady within twenty miles, but still in vain.  His mother was dead, his sister married to an old college fellow, who had waited half a lifetime for a living, but still he kept house alone.

      And open house it was, with a dinner-table ever expanding for chance guests, strawberry or syllabub feasts half the summer, and Christmas feasts extending wide on either side of the twelve days.  Every one who wanted a holiday was free of the Holt; young sportsmen tried their inexperienced guns under the squire’s patient eye; and mammas disposed of their children for weeks together, to enjoy the run of the house and garden, and rides according to age, on pony, donkey, or Mr. Charlecote.  No festivity in the neighbourhood was complete without his sunshiny presence; he was wanted wherever there was any family event; and was godfather, guardian, friend, and adviser of all.  Every one looked on him as a sort of exclusive property, yet he had room in his heart for all.  As a magistrate, he was equally indispensable in county government, and a charity must be undeserving indeed that had not Humfrey Charlecote, Esq., on the committee.  In his own parish he was a beneficent monarch; on his own estate a mighty farmer, owning that his relaxation and delight were his turnips, his bullocks, and machines; and so content with them, and with his guests, that Honora never recollected that walk in the pine woods without deciding that to have monopolized him would have been an injury to the public, and perhaps less for his happiness than this free, open-hearted bachelor life.  Seldom did she recall that scene to mind, for she had never been by it rendered less able to trust to him as her friend and protector, and she stood in need of his services and his comfort, when her father’s death had left him the nearest relative who could advise or transact business for her and her mother.  Then, indeed, she leant on him as on the kindest and most helpful of brothers.

      Mrs. Charlecote was too much acclimatized to the city to be willing to give up her old residence, and Honor not only loved it fondly, but could not bear to withdraw from the local charities where her tasks had hitherto lain; and Woolstone-lane, therefore, continued their home, though the summer and autumn usually took them out of London.

      Such was the change in Honora’s outward life.  How was it with that inmost shrine where dwelt her heart and soul?  A copious letter writer, Owen Sandbrook’s correspondence never failed to find its way to her, though they did not stand on such terms as to write to one another; and in those letters she lived, doing her day’s work with cheerful brightness, and seldom seeming preoccupied, but imagination, heart, and soul were with his mission.

      Very indignant was she when the authorities, instead of sending him to the interesting children of the forests, thought proper to waste him on mere colonists, some of them Yankee, some Presbyterian Scots.  He was asked insolent, nasal questions, his goods were coolly treated as common property, and it was intimated to him on all hands that as Englishman he was little in their eyes, as clergyman less, as gentleman least of all.  Was this what he had sacrificed everything for?

      By dint of strong complaints and entreaties, after he had quarrelled with most of his flock, he accomplished an exchange into a district where red men formed the chief of his charge; and Honora was happy, and watched for histories of noble braves, gallant hunters, and meek-eyed squaws.

      Slowly, slowly she gathered that the picturesque deer-skins had become dirty blankets, and that the diseased, filthy, sophisticated savages were among the worst of the pitiable specimens of the effect of contact with the most evil side of civilization.  To them, as Owen wrote, a missionary was only a white man who gave no brandy, and the rest of his parishioners were their obdurate, greedy, trading tempters!  It had been a shame to send him to such a hopeless set, when there were others on whom his toils would not be thrown away.  However, he should do his best.

      And Honor went on expecting the wonders his best would work, only the more struck with admiration by hearing that the locality was a swamp of luxuriant vegetation, and equally luxuriant fever and ague; and the letter he wrote thence to her mother on the news of their loss did her more good than all Humfrey’s considerate kindness.

      Next, he had had the ague, and had gone to Toronto for change of air.  Report spoke of Mr. Sandbrook as the most popular preacher who had appeared in Toronto for years, attracting numbers to his pulpit, and sending them away enraptured by his power of language.  How beautiful that a man of such talents, always so much stimulated by appreciation, should give up all this most congenial scene, and devote himself to his obscure mission!

      Report said more, but Honora gave it no credit till old Mr. Sandbrook called one morning in Woolstone-lane, by his nephew’s desire, to announce to his friends that he had formed an engagement with Miss Charteris, the daughter of a general officer there in command.

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