The Trial [235]
wrong I was--how ungrateful--to have utterly missed all the nobleness and generosity of your behaviour, and answered in that unjust, ill-tempered way.' 'Nothing was ever more deserved,' he answered; 'I have hated myself ever since, and I hope I am not as obnoxious now.' 'It was I!' she said; 'I have lived every bit of the winter over again, and seen that I was always ready to be offended, and somehow I could not help caring so much for what you said, that lesser things from you hurt and cut as other people's did not.' 'Do you know what that proves?' said Tom, with an arch subsmile lighting on his eyes and mouth; and as a glow awoke on her pale cheek, he added, 'and won't you believe, too, that my propensity to "contemptuous irony" was all from my instinctive fear of what you could do to me!' 'Oh, don't repeat that! I have been so bitterly ashamed of it!' 'I am sure I have.' 'And I have longed so to ask your pardon. I thought I would leave a letter or message with Ella that you would understand.' 'You can do better than that now. You can forgive me.' 'Oh!' said Averil, her hands suddenly joined over her face, 'this is one joy more! I cannot think why it is all growing so bright just at last--at last. It is all come now! How good it is!' He saw that she could bear no more. He pressed no more for a decisive answer; he did not return to the subject; but from that time he treated her as what belonged to him, as if it was his business to think, act, and judge for her, and to watch over her; and her acquiescence was absolute. There was not much speaking between them; there were chiefly skirmishes between him and Cora, to which she listened in smiling passive amusement; and even when alone together they said little-- actually nothing at all about the future. He had written to Ethel on his first arrival, and on the reply, as well as on Averil's state, all must depend. Meanwhile such a look of satisfied repose and peace shone upon Averil's face as was most sweet to look upon; and though extremely feeble, and not essentially better, she was less suffering, and could in great languor, but in calm enjoyment, pass through day by day of the precious present that had come to crown her long trial.
CHAPTER XXX
Oh, when its flower seems fain to die, The full heart grudges smile or sigh To aught beside, though fair and dear; Like a bruised leaf, at touch of fear, Its hidden fragrance love gives out.--Lyra Innocentum
'The letters at last! One to Ethel, and three to Leonard! Now for it, Ethel!' Ethel opened--read--ran out of the room without a word, and sought her father in his study, where she laid before him Tom's letter, written from Massissauga the day after his arrival.
'Dear Ethel, 'I have found my darling, but too late to arrest the disease--the work of her brother's perverseness and wrong-headedness. I have no hope of saving her; though it will probably be a matter of several months--that is, with care, and removal from this vile spot. 'I am writing to Henry, but I imagine that he is too much charmed with his present prospects to give them up; and in her angelic self- sacrifice she insists on Leonard's not coming out. Indeed, there would be no use in his doing so unless she leaves this place; but should no unforeseen complication supervene, it is my full persuasion that she could be removed, safely make the voyage, and even be spared for this summer among us. Surely my father will not object! It will be but a short time; and she has suffered so much, so piteously needs love and cherishing, that it is not in him to refuse. He, who consented to Margaret's engagement, cannot but feel for us. I would work for him all my life! I would never cast a thought beyond home, if only once hallowed by this dear presence for ever so short a time. Only let the answers be so cordial as to remove all doubts or scruples; and when they are sent prepare for her. I would bring her as quickly as her health permits. No time must be lost in taking her from hence; and I wait only for the letters to obtain her consent to an immediate
CHAPTER XXX
Oh, when its flower seems fain to die, The full heart grudges smile or sigh To aught beside, though fair and dear; Like a bruised leaf, at touch of fear, Its hidden fragrance love gives out.--Lyra Innocentum
'The letters at last! One to Ethel, and three to Leonard! Now for it, Ethel!' Ethel opened--read--ran out of the room without a word, and sought her father in his study, where she laid before him Tom's letter, written from Massissauga the day after his arrival.
'Dear Ethel, 'I have found my darling, but too late to arrest the disease--the work of her brother's perverseness and wrong-headedness. I have no hope of saving her; though it will probably be a matter of several months--that is, with care, and removal from this vile spot. 'I am writing to Henry, but I imagine that he is too much charmed with his present prospects to give them up; and in her angelic self- sacrifice she insists on Leonard's not coming out. Indeed, there would be no use in his doing so unless she leaves this place; but should no unforeseen complication supervene, it is my full persuasion that she could be removed, safely make the voyage, and even be spared for this summer among us. Surely my father will not object! It will be but a short time; and she has suffered so much, so piteously needs love and cherishing, that it is not in him to refuse. He, who consented to Margaret's engagement, cannot but feel for us. I would work for him all my life! I would never cast a thought beyond home, if only once hallowed by this dear presence for ever so short a time. Only let the answers be so cordial as to remove all doubts or scruples; and when they are sent prepare for her. I would bring her as quickly as her health permits. No time must be lost in taking her from hence; and I wait only for the letters to obtain her consent to an immediate