although only twenty-four hours absent from bissett, frank churchill during that short period had undergone more mental conflict than is often suffered by many men in a course of years. he had had full time for reflection, and had availed himself of it to the utmost. while within the charmed circle he was necessarily under fascination; but now, although the witch was any thing but exorcised, he felt sufficiently himself to collect his thoughts, and he saw the absolute necessity of coming to some fixed determination as to his future conduct before he returned. often before had he had occasion to weigh matters almost as important as this, though of course of a different character; and he was not the man to blink one jot of the attendant difficulties, or to over-persuade himself as to the feasibility of his designs simply because he wished them carried out. he was in love with this girl, then; he supposed that must be granted? at all events, by analysis and comparison, that was easily ascertained. though, as the world goes, his life had been tolerably pure, he had in his student-days, and in the time immediately subsequent, had his amourettes and flirtations like the rest; but when he remembered what had been his feelings for gretchen, the fat and fair daughter of anton schütz, the beery saddler; for ernestine, the sentimental heiress of the graf von triebenfeld; for eugénie and olympe, vestals of the quartier latin; or for any of the half-hundred young ladies with whom during the earlier portion of his london career he had gone through the usual bouquet-sending, cotillon-dancing, botanical-fête-meeting flirtation,--he recognised at once that this was a very different matter. breakers ahead and all round! as for barbara, he felt conscious of no vanity in avowing to himself his perception of having excited her interest, but whether sufficiently to induce her to listen to an offer he could not imagine. possibly, probably, she looked to making a brilliant marriage: her beauty and accomplishments were her capital, and should be turned to good purpose; and yet, as this idea passed through his mind, he had an instinctive feeling that barbara's proud spirit would revolt from any such match, however much it might be pressed on her by her relations. her relations! ay, even granting the girl's acquiescence, there would be one of the grand sources of difficulty: old miss lexden, rich, selfish, and narrow-minded, would doubtless oppose such a marriage in every possible way; and how would sir marmaduke look upon him, having come an invited and a welcome guest, and then brought this discord into the family? and even suppose it arranged somehow, she consenting and her friends satisfied, what was to be done with his mother, with whom and in whose house he then resided? how and where was the rest of her life to be passed? he could not live far from the office, where, thrice a week always, and occasionally more frequently, he was engaged till past midnight; and how would the brilliant beauty of the west be able to exist in the dreary fastnesses of great adullam street, or the arid desert of tiglath-pileser square? and then the narrow income--competence for one, a bare sufficiency for two! his horse must be given up, but that he would not so much mind; his club (the retrenchment) must be kept on, for business purposes, though he should of course never spend any money there; and he must take to sixteen-shilling trousers, and that sort of thing; all easy enough. but for her?--no brougham (and fancy those tiny high-heeled bottines over the villanous mesopotamian pavement!), only an occasional opera-box obtained from the statesman (situation high, surroundings queer, claqueurs and amis des artistes), two or three balls in the season, and perhaps one dinner-party at home, with the inevitable side-dishes and attendant carpet-beater. ay, and worse beyond!--children born and reared in that dingy atmosphere, further expenditure to be met, perhaps sickness to be struggled through, and all the household gods dependent on him,--on the soundness of his health and the clearness of his brain, which failing, what had they to look to? a?e de me! that last thought settled the question. let it fade out, pleasant dream that it was; or rather let him crush it for ever! it was impossible, and so let it pass. down go the spanish castles, away melt the aerial estates; duty's foot kicks away alnaschar's basket, and there is the hard, dry, unsympathetic, work-a-day world before him! he will go back to bissett, but only for a day, just to get his traps together and to make some plausible excuse, and then will start off. this first week of his holiday has been any thing but rest, and rest he requires. he will go to scarborough--no! not there, for reasons; but to some watering-place, and pitch pebbles into the sea and lie fallow until he is compelled to return to work. yes, that is the right course--he determines on it finally as the train nears the brighton station; hopes must be crushed, and duty must be obeyed. duty has won the day for once--and where is the pearl-gray glove now? at his lips, of course! frank churchill has resolved upon doing his duty, and, like the drunkard in the old story, is "treating resolution."
anxiety to test his newly-farmed determination must be strong, for he ordered the flyman to drive as hard as he could to bissett; but, cooling a little, dismissed the man at the lodge-gates, and strolled through the avenue towards the house. the leaves yet held their own; scarcely the slightest autumnal tint had fallen on them; and the grand old avenue looked magnificent. the weather was splendid; the sun shone brightly, while the air was clear and bracing; deer bounded in the brushwood; and as churchill stood rejoicing in the lovely view, a cart laden with game, and driven by little joe lubbock, the head-keeper's boy, emerged from the home copse, and made a pleasant feature in the landscape. all around told of wealth and peace and english comfort; and as churchill surveyed the scene, he felt (as he had often felt) how great were the enjoyments of those born to such heritage, and (as he had never felt) how well-disposed he should be for the sake of those enjoyments to undertake the necessary responsibilities. his radicalism was of the very mildest nature; the free and independent electors of brighton or of southwark would have scorned the feebleness of his ideas as to the requirements of the people; he had no wish to alter the laws of primogeniture, nor to see the furniture designed by gillow or holland emblazoned with the "swart mechanic's bloody thumbs;"--indeed, it must be confessed that he thought the "swart mechanic," when out of his place and wrong-headed through false leading, a very objectionable person. but he was in love, and wanted money and position to enable him to forward his suit; and as the thought of some who had both and did good with neither flitted across him, he stamped impatiently on the gravel, and the fair view and all the sweet excellence of nature faded out before his eyes.
he walked hurriedly on for a few paces, and then bethought him that somewhere close in the neighbourhood was the gate leading to the fir-plantation in which he had recently walked with barbara on their return from the shooting-party. he had the whole afternoon to do nothing in, and it would be pleasant to renew the remembrance of that happy jesting talk. memory, he thought rather bitterly, was a luxury which it did not require either rank or riches to enjoy. he struck across the dry crisp turf, and arrived at the gate; it opened on a short gravelled walk, with low palings on either side, terminating in a rustic stile, on the other side of which lay the fir-plantation. as churchill entered the path he saw a figure seated on the stile at the other end, and in an instant knew it to be barbara lexden. her head was bent, and she was leaning forward, idly tracing figures on the turf with the point of her parasol. churchill advanced with a strange fluttering of his usually regular-beating heart; but she did not appear to hear his footstep until he was close behind her, when she suddenly turned round, and their eyes met. it was a trying time for both, but barbara was the first to speak.
"so soon back, mr. churchill? we--that is, sir marmaduke was led to believe that you would not return until the end of the week."
"fortunately, miss lexden, my business in town was soon finished" ("question of settlement with the lawyer, or naming the day with the lady," thought barbara), "and i got back as quickly as i could. how lovely this place looks! perhaps it seems doubly beautiful after twenty-four hours in london; but it appears to me even fresher, calmer, and more peaceful than when i left it."
"that, i suspect, is your poetic imagination, mr. churchill. you were raising dryden the other night, and can now quote him to your own purposes. you know he says:
'winds murmured through the leaves his short delay,
and fountains o'er their pebbles chid his stay;
but, with his presence cheered, they cease to mourn,
and walks seem fresher green at his return.'"
"aptly quoted, though the lines were addressed to a lady, and for 'his' read 'your.' i don't think that even the fountains in trafalgar square would be weak enough to 'chide my stay.' but, apropos of poetic imagination, i am afraid i disturbed you from some deep reverie."
"you never were more mistaken," said barbara, with a short laugh. "i--i came out on a much more unromantic expedition. i lost a glove a day or two ago, and--and fancied i might have dropped it somewhere here."
"is this it?" asked churchill suddenly, taking from his pocket a morocco-leather case, and producing from it the much-prized pearl-gray.
"yes," said barbara, glancing quickly at him from under her drooping eyelids; "that is it. how very fortunate!"
"i picked it up," said churchill, "as we returned from the shooting-party the other day, and intended restoring it sooner, but forgot it. i am glad to be able to do so now." he handed her the glove, looked her straight in the face, and walked on silently by her side.
"we have had a new arrival here since you left," said barbara, after a pause, swinging the glove slowly to and fro; "a mr. beresford. you know him?"
"beresford? oh, of the tin-tax office! i have met him."
"you are on intimate terms?"
"i--i have not that honour. mr. beresford moves in a different set to mine."
"that question of 'sets' seems to be one of paramount importance with you, mr. churchill. how frequently you harp upon it!"
"it is a question which we must necessarily bear in mind, miss lexden," said churchill, with emphasis; then smiling, added,--"suum cuique, which is latin, and unintelligible; 'the cobbler and his last,' which is english and vernacular. but why did you ask?"
"simply because he seems amusing, and likely to be popular here. i am sorry we shall not have the opportunity of profiting by his high spirits, as aunt and i will probably be leaving on thursday."
one quick glance told her that this shot, if intended for mischief, had signally failed. with perfect calmness churchill replied,
"and i also must manage to survive the loss of mr. beresford's conversation, as i go to-morrow."
"to-morrow!" exclaimed barbara; then, in her ordinary tone, "ah, to be sure, you have of course so much to do."
"well," said churchill, smiling, "for a month i hope to do little beyond mooning on the beach and throwing pebbles into the sea."
"yes," said barbara quickly; "that is, i believe, the usual thing under the circumstances. and the place? the isle of wight, or devonshire, of course?"
"under the circumstances!" he echoed. "i beg your pardon, miss lexden, but i fear we are at cross purposes. under what circumstances?"
("he braves it out to the last," thought barbara; "who would have thought that he could have stooped to a shuffle, or degrade the woman he was engaged to, by tacitly ignoring the fact?") then she said, curling her lip, and tossing the glove with a lightly contemptuous gesture,
"good news travels fast, mr. churchill. the fact of your forthcoming marriage is known at bissett."
"my forthcoming marriage? it's a joke, miss lexden?"
"we have heard it as a fact."
"and you believed it?" said churchill, turning white, while his lip trembled visibly as he spoke.
"why should i not?" after a pause, and in a low voice, "then you are not going to be married?"
"married, no! miss lexden, you must now listen patiently to what i should otherwise have kept secret, knowing the folly i have been guilty of. if ever i marry, barbara lexden will be my wife!"
she started, and seemed about to speak.
"one moment more," said he. "you know how completely i understand the difference in our position?" (an impatient gesture from barbara.) "my sensitiveness, pride--call it what you will--would have kept me silent. now i have spoken, and--barbara--you must not keep me in suspense. could it ever be possible?"
perfectly colourless, she leant against the stile, but said nothing.
"miss lexden, you must end this doubt."
silently she placed the little glove in his hand.
"barbara! my barbara!" and she was folded to his heart.
