The Complete Prose Works of Martin Farquhar Tupper

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"Mrs. General Tracy, allow me to introduce to you Miss Emily Warren, the
daughter of a very particular friend of mine:--Miss Warren, Mrs. Tracy."

For other welcomings, mutual astonishment at each other's fat, some
little sorrowful talk of the twenty years ago, and some dull paternal
jest about this dozen feet of sons, made up the chilly meeting: and the
slender thread of sentimentals, which might possibly survive it, was
soon snapt by paying post-boys, orders after luggage, and devouring
tiffin.

The only persons who felt any thing at all, were Mrs. Tracy, vexed at
her dishabille, and mortified at so cool a reception of, what she hoped,
her still unsullied beauties; and Charles, poor fellow, who ran up to
his studious retreat, and soothed his grief, as best he might, with
philosophic fancies: it was so cold, so heartless, so unkind a greeting.
Romantic youth! how should the father have known him for a son?

CHAPTER IV.

THE GENERAL AND HIS WARD.

It is surprising what a change twenty years of a tropical sun can make
in the human constitution. The captain went forth a good-looking,
good-tempered man, destitute neither of kind feelings nor masculine
beauty: the general returned bloated, bilious, irascible, entirely
selfish, and decidedly ill-favoured. Such affections as he ever had
seemed to have been left behind in India--that new world, around which
now all his associations and remembrances revolved; and the reserve
(clearly reproduced in Charles), the habit of silence whereof we took
due notice in the spring-tide of his life, had now grown, perhaps from
some oppressive secret, into a settled, moody, continuous taciturnity,
which made his curious wife more vexed at him than ever; for,
notwithstanding all the news he must have had to tell her, the company
of John George Julian Tracy proved to his long-expectant Jane any thing
but cheering or instructive. His past life, and present feelings, to say
nothing of his future prospects, might all be but a blank, for any thing
the general seemed to care: brandy and tobacco, an easy chair, and an
ordnance map of India, with Emily beside him to talk about old times,
these were all for which he lived: and even the female curiosity of a
wife, duly authorized to ask questions, could extract from him
astonishingly little of his Indian experiences. As to his wealth,
indeed, Mrs. Tracy boldly made direct inquiry; for Julian set her on to
beg for a commission, and Charles also was anxious for a year or two at
college; but the general divulged not much: albeit he vouchsafed to both
his sons a liberally increased allowance. It was only when his wife,
piqued at such reserve, pettishly remarked,

"At any rate, sir, I may be permitted to hope, that Miss Warren's
friends are kind enough to pay her expenses;"

That the veteran, in high dudgeon at any imputation on his Indian
acquaintances, sternly answered,

"You need not be apprehensive, madam; Emily Warren is amply provided
for." Words which sank deep into the prudent mother's mind.

But we must not too long let dock-leaves hide a violet; it is high time,
and barely courteous now, to introduce that beautiful exotic, Emily
Warren. Her own history, as she will tell it to Charles hereafter, was
so obscure, that she knew little of it certainly herself, and could
barely gather probabilities from scattered fragments. At present, we
have only to survey results in a superficial manner: in their due
season, we will dig up all the roots.

No heroine can probably engage our interest or sympathy who possesses
the infirmity of ugliness: it is not in human nature to admire her, and
human nature is a thing very much to be consulted. Moreover, no one ever
yet saw an amiable personage, who was not so far pleasing, or, in other
parlance, so far pretty. I cannot help the common course of things; and
however hackneyed be the thought, however common-place the phrase, it is
true, nevertheless, that beauty, singular beauty, would be the first
idea of any rational creature, who caught but a glimpse of Emily Warren;
and I should account it little wonder if, upon a calmer gaze, that
beauty were found to have its deepest, clearest fountain in those large
dark eyes of heir's.

Aware as I may be, that "large dark eyes" are no novelty in tales like
this; and famous for rare originality as my pen (not to say genius)
would become, if an attempt were herein made to interest the world in a
pink-eyed heroine, still I prefer plodding on in the well-worn path of
pleasant beauty; and so long as Nature's bounty continues to supply so
well the world we live in with large dark eyes, and other feminine
perfections, our Emily, at any rate, remains in fashion; and if she has
many pretty peers, let us at least not peevishly complain of them. A
graceful shape is, luckily, almost the common prerogative of female
youthfulness; a dimpled smile, a cheerful, winning manner, regular
features, and a mass of luxuriant brown hair--these all heroines
have--and so has our's.

But no heroine ever had yet Emily Warren's eyes; not identically only,
which few can well deny; but similarly also, which the many must be good
enough to grant: and very few heroes, indeed, ever saw their equal;
though, if any hereabouts object, I will not be so cruel or unreasonable
as to hope they will admit it. At first, full of soft light, gentle and
alluring, they brighten up to blaze upon you lustrously, and fascinate
the gazer's dazzled glance: there are depths in them that tell of the
unfathomable soul, heights in them that speak of the spirit's
aspirations. It is gentleness and purity, no less than sensibility and
passion, that look forth in such strange power from those windows of the
mind: it is not the mere beautiful machine, fair form, and pleasing
colours, but the heaven-born light of tenderness and truth, streaming
through the lens, that takes the fond heart captive. Charles, for one,
could not help looking long and keenly into Emily Warren's eyes; they
magnetized him, so that he might not turn away from them: entranced him,
that he would not break their charm, had he been able: and then the long
tufted eyelashes droop so softly over those blazing suns--that I do not
in the least wonder at Charles's impolite, perhaps, but still natural
involuntary stare, and his mute abstracted admiration: the poor youth is
caught at once, a most willing captive--the moth has burnt its wings,
and flutters still happily around that pleasant warming radiance. How
his heart yearned for something to love, some being worthy of his own
most pure affections: and lo! these beauteous eyes, true witnesses of
this sweet mind, have filled him for ever and a day with love at first
sight.

But gentle Charles was not the only conquest: the fiery Julian, too,
acknowledged her supremacy, bowed his stubborn neck, and yoked himself
at once, another and more rugged captive, to the chariot of her charms.
It was Caliban, as well as Ferdinand, courting fair Miranda. In his
lower grade, he loved--fiercely, coarsely: and the same passion, which
filled his brother's heart with happiest aspirations, and pure unselfish
tenderness towards the beauteous stranger, burnt him up as an inward and
consuming fire: Charles sunned himself in heaven's genial beams, while
Julian was hot with the lava-current of his own bad heart's volcano.

It will save much trouble, and do away with no little useless mystery,
to declare, at the outset, which of these opposite twin-brothers our
dark-eyed Emily preferred. She was only seventeen in years; but an
Indian sky had ripened her to full maturity, both of form and feelings:
and having never had any one whom she cared to think upon, and let her
heart delight in, till Charles looked first upon her beauty wonderingly,
it is no marvel if she unconsciously reciprocated his young heart's
thought--before ever he had breathed it to himself. Julian's admiration
she entirely overlooked; she never thought him more than civil--barely
that, perhaps--however he might flatter himself: but her heart and eyes
were full of his fair contrast, the light seen brighter against
darkness; Charles all the dearer for a Julian. Intensely did she love
him, as only tropic blood can love; intently did she gaze on him, when
any while he could not see her face, as only those dark eyes could gaze:
and her mind, all too ignorant but greedy of instruction, no less than
her heart, rich in sympathies and covetous of love, went forth, and fed
deliciously on the intellectual brow, and delicate flushing cheek of her
noble-minded Charles. Not all in a day, nor a week, nor a month, did
their loves thus ripen together. Emily was a simple child of nature, who
had every thing to learn; she scarcely knew her Maker's name, till
Charles instructed her in God's great love: the stars were to her only
shining studs of gold, and the world one mighty plain, and men and women
soulless creatures of a day, and the wisdom of creation unconsidered,
and the book of natural knowledge close sealed up, till Charles set out
before his eager student the mysteries of earth and heaven. Oh, those
blessed hours of sweet teaching! when he led her quick delighted steps
up the many avenues of science to the central throne of God! Oh, those
happy moments, never to return, when her eyes in gentle thankfulness for
some new truth laid open to them, flashed upon her youthful Mentor, love
and intelligence, and pleased admiring wonder! Sweet spring-tide of
their loves, who scarcely knew they loved, yet thought of nothing but
each other; who walked hand in hand, as brother and sister, in the
flowery ways of mutual blessing, mutual dependence: alas, alas! how
brief a space can love, that guest from heaven, dwell on earth
unsullied!

CHAPTER V.

JEALOUSY.

For Julian soon perceived that Charles was no despicable rival. At
first, self-flattery, and the habitual contempt wherewith he regarded his
brother, blinded him to Emily's attachment: moreover, in the scenes of
gayety and the common social circle, she never gave him cause to complain
of undue preferences; readily she leant upon his arm, cheerfully
accompanied him in morning-visits, noon-day walks, and evening parties;
and if pale Charles (in addition to the more regular masters, dancing
and music, and other pieces of accomplishment) thought proper to bore
her with his books for sundry hours every day, Julian found no fault
with that;--the girl was getting more a woman of the world, and all
for him: she would like her play-time all the better for such schoolings,
and him to be the truant at her side.

But when, from ordinary civilities, the coarse loud lover proceeded to
particular attentions; when he affected to press her delicate hand, and
ventured to look what he called love into her eyes, and to breathe silly
nothings in her ear--he could deceive himself no longer, notwithstanding
all his vanity; as legibly as looks could write it, he read disgust
upon her face, and from that day forth she shunned him with undisguised
abhorrence. Poor innocent maid! she little knew the man's black mind,
who thus dared to reach up to the height of her affections; but she saw
enough of character in his swart scowling face, and loud assuming manners,
to make her dread his very presence, as a thunder-cloud across
her summer sky.

Then did the baffled Julian begin to look around him, and took notice
of her deepening love of Charles; nay, even purposely, she seemed now
to make a difference between them, as if to check presumption and
encourage merit. And he watched their stolen glances, how tremblingly
they met each other's gaze; and he would often-times roughly break in
upon their studies, to look on their confused disquietude with the pallid
frowns of envy: he would insult poor Charles before her, in hope to
humble him in her esteem; but mild and Christian patience made her
see him as a martyr: he would even cast rude slights on her whom he
professed to love, with the view of raising his brother's chastened wrath,
but was forced to quail and sneak away beneath her quick indignant
glance, ere her more philosophical lover had time to expostulate with
the cowardly savage.

Meanwhile, what were the parents about? The general had given out,
indeed, that he had brought Emily over for schooling; but he seemed so
fond of her (in fact, she was the only thing to prove he wore a heart),
that he never could resolve upon sending her away from, what she now
might well call, home. Often, in some strange dialect of Hindostan, did
they converse together, of old times and distant shores; none but Emily
might read him to sleep--none but Emily wake him in the morning with
a kiss--none but Emily dare approach him in his gouty torments--none
but Emily had any thing like intimate acquaintance with that moody
iron-hearted man.

As to his sons, or the two young men he might presume to be his sons, he
neither knew them, nor cared to know. Bare civilities, as between man
and man, constituted all which their intercourse amounted to: what were
those young fellows, stout or slim, to him? mere accidents of a
soldier's gallantries and of an ill-assorted marriage. He neither had,
nor wished to have, any sympathies with them: Julian might be as bad as
he pleased, and Charles as good, for any thing the general seemed to
heed: they could not dive with him into the past, and the sports of
Hindostan: they reminded him, simply, of his wife, for pleasures of
Memory; of the grave, for pleasures of Hope: he was older when he looked
at them: and they seemed to him only living witnesses of his folly as
lieutenant, in the choice of Mrs. Tracy. I will not take upon myself to
say, that he had any occasion to congratulate himself on the latter
reminiscence.

So he quickly acquiesced in Julian's wish for a commission, and
entirely approved of Charles's college schemes. After next September,
the funds should be forthcoming: not but that he was rich enough, and
to spare, any month in the year: but he would be vastly richer then,
from prize-money, or some such luck. It was more prudent to delay
until September.

With reference to Emily--no, no--I could see at once that General
Tracy never had any serious intention to part with Emily; but she had
all manner of masters at home, and soon made extraordinary progress.
As for the matter of his sons falling in love with her, attractive in all
beauty though she were, he never once had given it a thought: for, first,
he was too much a man of the world to believe in such ideal trash as
love: and next, he totally forgot that his "boy, or boys," had human
feelings. So, when his wife one day gave him a gentle and triumphant
hint of the state of affairs, it came upon him overwhelmingly, like an
avalanche: his yellow face turned flake-white, he trembled as he stood,
and really seemed to take so natural a probability to heart as the most
serious of evils.

"My son Julian in love with Emily! and if not he, at any rate Charles!
What the devil, madam, can you mean by this dreadful piece of
intelligence?--It's impossible, ma'am; nonsense! it can't be true; it
shan't, ma'am."

And the general, having issued his military mandates, wrapped himself
in secresy once more; satisfied that both of those troublesome sons
were to leave home after the next quarter, and the prize-money at
Hancock's.

CHAPTER VI.

THE CONFIDANTE.

But Mrs. Tracy had the best reason for believing her intelligence was
true, and she could see very little cause for regarding it as dreadful.
True, one son would have been enough for this wealthy Indian
heiress--but still it was no harm to have two strings to her bow. Julian
was her favourite, and should have the girl if she could manage it; but
if Emily Warren would not hear of such a husband, why Charles Tracy may
far better get her money than any body else.

That she possessed great wealth was evident: such jewellery, such
Trinchinopoli chains, such a blaze of diamonds _en suite_, such a
multitude of armlets, and circlets, and ear-rings, and other oriental
finery, had never shone on Devonshire before: at the Eyemouth ball, men
worshipped her, radiant in beauty, and gorgeously apparelled. Moreover,
money overflowed her purse, her work-box, and her jewel-case: Charles's
village school, and many other well-considered charities, rejoiced in
the streams of her munificence. The general had given her a banker's
book of signed blank checks, and she filled up sums at pleasure: such
unbounded confidence had he in her own prudence and her far-off father's
liberality. The few hints her husband deigned to give, encouraged Mrs.
Tracy to conclude, that she would be a catch for either of her sons;
and, as for the girl herself, she had clearly been brought up to order
about a multitude of servants, to command the use of splendid equipages,
and to spend money with unsparing hand.

Accordingly, one day when Julian was alone with his mother, their
conversation ran as follows:

"Well, Julian dear, and what do you think of Emily Warren?"

"Think, mother? why--that she's deuced pretty, and dresses like an
empress: but where did the general pick her up, eh?--who is she?"

"Why, as to who she is--I know no more than you; she is Emily Warren:
but as to the great question of what she is, I know that she is rolling
in riches, and would make one of my boys a very good wife."

"Oh, as to wife, mother, one isn't going to be fool enough to marry for
love now-a-days: things are easier managed hereabouts, than that: but
money makes it quite another thing. So, this pretty minx is rich, is
she?"

"A great heiress, I assure you, Julian."

"Bravo, bravo-o! but how to make the girl look sweet upon me, mother?
There's that white-livered fellow, Charles--"

"Never mind him, boy; do you suppose he would have the heart to make
love to such a splendid creature as Miss Warren: fy, Julian, for a faint
heart: Charles is well enough as a Sabbath-school teacher, but I hope he
will not bear away the palm of a ladye-love from my fine high-spirited
Julian." Poor Mrs. Tracy was as flighty and romantic at forty-five as
she had been at fifteen.

The fine high-spirited Julian answered not a word, but looked
excessively cross; for he knew full well that Charles's chance was to
his in the ratio of a million to nothing.

"What, boy," went on the prudent mother, "still silent! I am afraid
Emily's good looks have been thrown away upon you, and that your heart
has not found out how to love her."

"Love her, mother? Curses! would you drive me mad? I think and dream of
nothing but that girl: morning, noon, and night, her eyes persecute me:
go where I will, and do what I will, her image haunts me: d----n it,
mother' don't I love the girl?"

[Oh love, love! thou much-slandered monosyllable, how desperately do bad
men malign thee!]

"Hush, Julian; pray be more guarded in your language; I am glad to see
though that your heart is in the right place: suppose now that I aid
your suit a little? I dare say I could do a great deal for you, my son;
and nothing could be more delightful to your mother than to try and make
her Julian happy."

True, Mrs. Tracy; you were always theatrically given, and played the
coquette in youth; so in age the character of go-between befits you
still: dearly do you love to dabble in, what you are pleased to call,
"_une affaire du coeur_."

"Mother," after a pause, replied her hopeful progeny, "if the girl had
been only pretty, I shouldn't have asked any body's help; for marriage
was never to my liking, and folks may have their will of prouder
beauties than this Emily, without going to church for it; but money
makes it quite another matter: and I may as well have the benefit of
your assistance in this matter o' money, eh mother? matrimony, you know:
an heiress and a beauty may be worth the wedding-ring; besides, when my
commission comes, I can follow the good example that my parents set me,
you know; and, after a three months' honey-mooning, can turn bachelor
again for twenty years or so, as our governor-general did, and so leave
wifey at home, till she becomes a Mrs. General like you."

Now, strange to say, this heartless bit of villany was any thing but
unpleasing to the foolish, flattered heart of Mrs. Tracy; he was a chip
of the old block, no better than his father: so she thanked "dear
Julian" for his confidence, with admiration and emotion; and looking
upwards, after the fashion of a Covent Garden martyr, blessed him.

CHAPTER VII.

THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE, ETC.

"Emily, my dear, take Julian's arm: here, Charles, come and change with
me; I should like a walk with you to Oxton, to see how your little
scholars get on." So spake the intriguing mother.

"Why, that is just what I was going to do with Charles," said Emily,
"and if Julian will excuse me--"

"Oh, never mind me, Miss Warren, pray; come along with me, will you,
mother?"

So they paired off in more well-matched couples (for Julian luckily took
huff), and went their different ways: with those went hatred, envy,
worldly scheming, and that lowest sort of love that ill deserves the
name; with these remain all things pure, affectionate, benevolent.

"Charles, dear," (they were just like brother and sister, innocent and
loving), "how kind it is of you to take me with you; if you only knew
how I dreaded Julian!"

"Why, Emmy? can he have offended you in any way?"

"Oh, Charles, he is so rude, and says such silly things, and--I am quite
afraid to be alone with him."

"What--what--what does he say to you, Emily?" hurriedly urged her
half-avowed lover.

"Oh, don't ask me, Charles--pray drop the subject;" and, as she blushed,
tears stood in her eyes.

Charles bit his lip and clenched his fist involuntarily; but an instant
word of prayer drove away the spirit of hatred, and set up love
triumphant in its place.

"My Emily--oh, what have I said? may I--may I call you my Emily?
dearest, dearest girl!" escaped his lips, and he trembled at his own
presumption. It was a presumptuous speech indeed; but it burst from the
well of his affections, and he could not help it.

Her answer was not in words, and yet his heart-strings thrilled beneath
the melody; for her eyes shed on him a blaze of love that made him
almost faint before them. In an instant, they understood, without a
word, the happy truth, that each one loved the other.

"Precious, precious Emily!" They were now far away from Burleigh, in the
fields; and he seized her hand, and covered it with kisses.

What more they said I was not by to hear, and if I had been would not
have divulged it. There are holy secrets of affection, which those who
can remember their first love--and first love is the only love worth
mentioning--may think of for themselves. Well, far better than my feeble
pencilling can picture, will they fill up this slight sketch. That walk
to Oxton, that visit to the village school, was full of generous
affections unrepressed, the out-pourings of two deep-welled hearts,
flowing forth in sympathetic ecstasy. The trees, and fields, and
cottages were bathed in heavenly light, and the lovers, happy in each
other's trust, called upon the all-seeing God to bless the best
affections of His children.

And what a change these mutual confessions made in both their minds!
Doubt was gone; they _were_ beloved; oh, richest treasure of joy! Fear
was gone; they dared declare their love; oh, purest river of all
sublunary pleasures! No longer pale, anxious, thoughtful, worn by the
corroding care of "Does she--does she love?"--Charles was, from that
moment, a buoyant, cheerful, exhilarated being--a new character; he put
on manliness, and fortitude, and somewhat of involuntary pride; whilst
Emily felt, that enriched by the affections of him whom she regarded as
her wisest, kindest earthly friend, by the acquisition of his love, who
had led her heart to higher good than this world at its best can give
her, she was elevated and ennobled from the simple Indian child, into
the loved and honoured Christian woman. They went on that important walk
to Oxton feeble, divided, unsatisfied in heart: they returned as two
united spirits, one in faith, one in hope, one in love; both heavenly
and earthly.

But the happy hour is past too soon; and, home again, they mixed once
more with those conflicting elements of hatred and contention.

"Emily," asked the general, in a very unusual stretch of curiosity,
"where have you been to with Charles Tracy? You look flushed, my dear;
what's the matter?"

Of course "nothing" was the matter: and the general was answered wisely,
for love was nothing in his average estimate of men and women.

"Charles, what can have come to you? I never saw you look so happy in my
life," was the mother's troublesome inquiry; "why, our staid youth
positively looks cheerful."

Charles's walk had refreshed him, taken away his head-ache, put him in
spirits, and all manner of glib reasons for rejoicing.

"You were right, Julian," whispered Mrs. Tracy, "and we'll soon put the
stopper on all this sort of thing."