CHAPTER VII.
DOST thou feel
The solemn whispering influence of the scene
Oppressing thy young heart, that thou dost draw
More closely to my side?--F. HEMANS: _Wood Walk and Hymn_.
CAROLINE and Evelyn, as was natural, became great friends. They were not
kindred to each other in disposition; but they were thrown together, and
friendship thus forced upon both. Unsuspecting and sanguine, it was
natural to Evelyn to admire; and Caroline was, to her inexperience, a
brilliant and imposing novelty. Sometimes Miss Merton's worldliness of
thought shocked Evelyn; but then Caroline had a way with her as if she
were not in earnest,--as if she were merely indulging an inclination
towards irony; nor was she without a certain vein of sentiment that
persons a little hackneyed in the world and young ladies a little
disappointed that they are not wives instead of maids, easily acquire.
Trite as this vein of sentiment was, poor Evelyn thought it beautiful and
most feeling. Then, Caroline was clever, entertaining, cordial, with all
that superficial superiority that a girl of twenty-three who knows London
readily exercises over a country girl of seventeen. On the other hand,
Caroline was kind and affectionate towards her. The clergyman's daughter
felt that she could not be always superior, even in fashion, to the
wealthy heiress.
One evening, as Mrs. Leslie and Mrs. Merton sat under the veranda of the
cottage, without their hostess, who had gone alone into the village, and
the young ladies were confidentially conversing on the lawn, Mrs. Leslie
said rather abruptly, "Is not Evelyn a delightful creature? How
unconscious of her beauty; how simple, and yet so naturally gifted!"
"I have never seen one who interested me more," said Mrs. Merton,
settling her _pelerine_; "she is extremely pretty."
"I am so anxious about her," resumed Mrs. Leslie, thoughtfully. "You
know the wish of the late Lord Vargrave that she should marry his nephew,
the present lord, when she reaches the age of eighteen. She only wants
nine or ten months of that time; she has seen nothing of the world: she
is not fit to decide for herself; and Lady Vargrave, the best of human
creatures, is still herself almost too inexperienced in the world to be a
guide for one so young placed in such peculiar circumstances, and of
prospects so brilliant. Lady Vargrave at heart is a child still, and
will be so even when as old as I am."
"It is very true," said Mrs. Merton. "Don't you fear that the girls will
catch cold? The dew is falling, and the grass must be wet."
"I have thought," continued Mrs. Leslie, without heeding the latter part
of Mrs. Merton's speech, "that it would be a kind thing to invite Evelyn
to stay with you a few months at the Rectory. To be sure, it is not like
London; but you see a great deal of the world. The society at your house
is well selected, and at times even brilliant; she will meet young people
of her own age, and young people fashion and form each other."
"I was thinking myself that I should like to invite her," said Mrs.
Merton; "I will consult Caroline."
"Caroline, I am sure, would be delighted; the difficulty lies rather in
Evelyn herself."
"You surprise me! she must be moped to death here."
"But will she leave her mother?"
"Why, Caroline often leaves me," said Mrs. Merton.
Mrs. Leslie was silent, and Evelyn and her new friend now joined the
mother and daughter.
"I have been trying to persuade Evelyn to pay us a little visit," said
Caroline; "she could accompany us so nicely; and if she is still strange
with us, dear grandmamma goes too,--I am sure we can make her at home."
"How odd!" said Mrs. Merton; "we were just saying the same thing. My
dear Miss Cameron, we should be so happy to have you."
"And I should be so happy to go, if Mamma would but go too."
As she spoke, the moon, just risen, showed the form of Lady Vargrave
slowly approaching the house. By the light, her features seemed more
pale than usual; and her slight and delicate form, with its gliding
motion and noiseless step, had in it something almost ethereal and
unearthly.
Evelyn turned and saw her, and her heart smote her. Her mother, so
wedded to the dear cottage--and had this gay stranger rendered that dear
cottage less attractive,--she who had said she could live and die in its
humble precincts? Abruptly she left her new friend, hastened to her
mother, and threw her arms fondly round her.
"You are pale; you have over-fatigued yourself. Where have you been?
Why did you not take me with you?"
Lady Vargrave pressed Evelyn's hand affectionately.
"You care for me too much," said she. "I am but a dull companion for
you; I was so glad to see you happy with one better suited to your gay
spirits. What can we do when she leaves us?"
"Ah, I want no companion but my own, own mother. And have I not Sultan,
too?" added Evelyn, smiling away the tear that had started to her eyes.
