Dawn

  CHAPTER XIX

  Arthur's sleep was oppressed that night by horrible nightmares offighting dogs, whereof the largest and most ferocious was fitted withGeorge's red head, the effect of which, screwed, without any eye tothe fitness of things, to the body of the deceased Snarleyow, struckhim as peculiarly disagreeable. He himself was armed with a gun, andwhilst he was still arguing with Sir John Bellamy the nice pointwhether, should he execute that particular animal, as he felt a carnallonging to do, it would be manslaughter or dogslaughter, he foundhimself wide awake.

  It was very early in the morning of the 1st of May, and, contrary tothe usual experience of the inhabitants of these islands, the sky gavepromise of a particularly fine day, just the day for fishing. He didnot feel sleepy, and, had he done so, he had had enough of his doggydreams; so he got up, dressed, and taking his fishing-rod, let himselfout of the house as he had been instructed to do on the previousevening, and, releasing Aleck from his outhouse, proceeded towardsBratham Lake.

  And about this time Angela woke up too, for she always rose early, andran to the window to see what sort of a day she had got for herbirthday. Seeing it to be so fine, she threw open the old lattice, atwhich her pet raven Jack was already tapping to be admitted, and letthe sweet air play upon her face and neck, and thought what awonderful thing it was to be twenty years old. And then, kneeling bythe window, she said her prayers after her own fashion, thanking Godwho had spared her to see this day, and praying Him to show her whatto do with her life, and, if it was His will, to make it a little lesslonely. Then she rose and dressed herself, feeling that now that shehad done with her teens, she was in every respect a woman grown--indeed, quite old. And, in honour of the event, she chose out of herscanty store of dresses, all of them made by Pigott and herself, hervery prettiest, the one she had had for Sunday wear last summer, atight-fitting robe of white stuff, with soft little frills round theneck and wrists. Next she put on a pair of stout boots calculated tokeep out the morning dew, and started off.

  Now all this had taken a good time, nearly an hour perhaps; for, beingher birthday, and there having been some mention of a young gentlemanwho might possibly come to fish, she had plaited up her shining hairwith extra care, a very laborious business when your hair hangs downto your knees.

  Meanwhile our other early riser, Arthur, had made his way first to thefoot of the lake and then along the little path that skirted its areatill he came to Caresfoot Staff. Having sufficiently admired thatmajestic oak, for he was a great lover of timber, he proceeded toinvestigate the surrounding water with the eye of a true fisherman. Afew yards further up there jutted into the water that fragment of wallon which stood the post, now quite rotten, to which Angela had boundherself on the day of the great storm. At his feet, too, thefoundations of another wall ran out for some distance into the lake,being, doubtless, the underpinning of an ancient boathouse, but thisdid not rise out of the water, but stopped within six inches of thesurface. Between these two walls lay a very deep pool.

  "Just the place for a heavy fish," reflected Arthur, and, even as hethought it, he saw a five-pound carp rise nearly to the surface, inorder to clear the obstruction of the wall, and sink silently into thedepths.

  Retiring carefully to one of two quaintly carven stone blocks placedat the foot of the oak-tree, on which, doubtless, many a monk had satin meditation, he set himself to get his fishing-gear together.Presently, however, struck by the beauty of the spot and its quiet,only broken by the songs of many nesting birds, he stopped a while tolook around him. Above his head the branches of a great oak, nowclothing themselves with the most vivid green, formed a dome-likeroof, beneath the shade of which grew the softest moss, starred hereand there with primroses and violets. Outside the circle of its shadowthe brushwood of mingled hazel and ash-stubs rose thick and high,ringing-in the little spot as with a wall, except where its depthswere pierced by the passage of a long green lane of limes that, unlikethe shrubberies, appeared to be kept in careful order, and of whichthe arching boughs formed a perfect leafy tunnel. Before him lay thelake where the long morning lights quivered and danced, as its calmwas now and again ruffled by a gentle breeze. The whole scene had alovely and peaceful look, and, gazing on it, Arthur fell into areverie.

  Sitting thus dreamily, his face looked at its best, its expression ofgentle thoughtfulness giving it an attraction beyond what it wasentitled to, judged purely from a sculptor's point of view. It was anintellectual face, a face that gave signs of great mentalpossibilities, but for all that a little weak about the mouth. Thebrow indicated some degree of power, and the mouth and eyes no smallcapacities for affection and all sorts of human sympathy and kindness.These last, in varying lights, could change as often as the Englishclimate; their groundwork, however, was blue, and they were honest andbonny. In short, a man in looking at Arthur Heigham at the age oftwenty-four would have reflected that, even among English gentlemen,he was remarkable for his gentleman-like appearance, and a "fellow onewould like to know;" a girl would have dubbed him "nice-looking;" anda middle-aged woman--and most women do not really understand theimmense difference between men until they are getting on that way--would have recognized in him a young man by no means uninteresting,and one who might, according to the circumstances of his life, developinto anything or--nothing in particular.

  Presently, drawn by some unguessed attraction, Arthur took his eyesoff an industrious water-hen, who was building a nest in a hurriedway, as though she were not quite sure of his intentions, andperceived a large raven standing on one leg on the grass, about threeyards from him, and peering at him comically out of one eye. This wasodd. But his glance did not stop at the raven, for a yard or twobeyond it he caught sight of a white skirt, and his eyes, travellingupwards, saw first a rounded waist, and then a bust and pair ofshoulders such as few women can boast, and at last, another pair ofeyes; and he then and there fell utterly and irretrievably in love.

  "Good heavens!" he said, aloud--poor fellow, he did not mean to sayit, it was wrung from the depths of his heart--"good heavens, howlovely she is!"

  Let the reader imagine the dreadful confusion produced in that otherpair of eyes at the open expression of such a sentiment, and the vividblush that stained the fair face in which they were set, if he can.But somehow they did not grow angry--perhaps it was not in the natureof the most sternly repressive young lady to grow angry at acompliment which, however marked, was so evidently genuine andunpremeditated. In another moment Arthur bethought him of what he hadsaid, and it was his turn to blush. He recovered himself pretty well,however. Rising from his stone seat, he took off his hat, and said,humbly,

  "I beg your pardon, but you startled me so, and really for a moment Ithought that you were the spirit of the place, or," he added,gracefully, pointing to a branch of half-opened hawthorn bloom sheheld in her hand, "the original Queen of the May."

  Angela blushed again. The compliment was only implied this time; shehad therefore no possible pretext for getting angry.

  For a moment she dropped the sweet eyes that looked as though theywere fresh from reading the truths of heaven before his gaze ofunmistakable admiration, and stood confused; and, as she stood, itstruck Arthur that there was something more than mere beauty of formand feature about her--an indescribable something, a glory ofinnocence, a reflection of God's own light that tinged the worship herloveliness commanded with a touch of reverential awe.

  "The angels must look like that," he thought. But he had no time tothink any more, for next moment she had gathered up her courage inboth her hands, and was speaking to him in a soft voice, of which thetones went ringing on through all the changes of his life.

  "My father told me that he had asked you to come and fish, but I didnot expect to meet you so early. I--I fear that I am disturbing you,"and she made as though she would be going.

  Arthur felt that this was a contingency to be prevented at allhazards.

  "You are Miss Caresfoot," he said, hurriedly, "are you not?"
/>
  "Yes--I am Angela; I need not ask your name, my father told it me. Youare Mr. Arthur Heigham."

  "Yes. And do you know that we are cousins?" This was a slightexaggeration, but he was glad to advance any plea to her confidencethat occurred to him.

  "Yes; my father said something about our being related. I have norelations except my cousin George, and I am very glad to make theacquaintance of one," and she held out her hand to him in a winningway.

  He took it almost reverently.

  "You cannot," he said with much sincerity, "be more glad than I am. I,too, am without relations. Till lately I had my mother, but she diedlast year."

  "Were you very fond of her?" she asked, softly.

  He nodded in reply, and, feeling instinctively that she was ondelicate ground, Angela pursued the conversation no further.

  Meanwhile Aleck had awoke from a comfortable sleep in which he wasindulging on the other stone seat, and, coming forward, sniffed atAngela and wagged his tail in approval--a liberty that was instantlyresented by the big raven, who had now been joined by another notquite so large. Advancing boldly, it pecked him sharply on the tail--aproceeding that caused Master Aleck to jump round as quickly as hismaimed condition would allow him, only to receive a still harder peckfrom its companion bird; indeed, it was not until Angela intervenedwith the bough of hawthorn that they would cease from their attack.

  "They are such jealous creatures," she explained; "they always followme about, and fly at every dog that comes near me. Poor dog! that isthe one, I suppose, who killed Snarleyow. My father told me all aboutit."

  "Yes, it is easy to see that," said Arthur, laughing, and pointing toAleck, who, indeed, was in lamentable case, having one eye entirelyclosed, a large strip of plaster on his head, and all the rest of hisbody more or less marked with bites. "It is an uncommonly awkwardbusiness for me, and your cousin will not forgive it in a hurry, Ifancy; but it really was not poor Aleck's fault--he is gentle as alamb, if only he is let alone."

  "He has a very honest face, though his nose does look as though itwere broken," she said, and, stooping down, she patted the dog.

  "But I must be going in to breakfast," she went on, presently. "It iseight o'clock; the sun always strikes that bough at eight in spring,"and she pointed to a dead limb, half hidden by the budding foliage ofthe oak.

  "You must observe closely to have noticed that, but I do not thinkthat the sun is quite on it yet. I do not like to lose my new-foundrelations in such a hurry," he added, with a somewhat forced smile,"and I am to go away from here this evening."

  The intelligence was evidently very little satisfactory to Angela, nordid she attempt to conceal her concern.

  "I am very sorry to hear that," she said. "I hoped you were going tostay for some time."

  "And so I might have, had it not been for that brute Aleck, but he hasput a long sojourn with your cousin and the ghost of Snarleyow out ofthe question; so I suppose I must go by the 6.20 train. At any rate,"he added, more brightly, as a thought struck him, "I must go fromIsleworth."

  She did not appear to see the drift of the last part of his remark,but answered,

  "I am going with my father to call at Isleworth at three thisafternoon, so perhaps we shall meet again there; but now, before I goin, I will show you a better place than this to fish, a little higherup, where Jakes, our gardener, always sets his night-lines."

  Arthur assented, as he would have been glad to assent to anythinglikely to prolong the interview, and they walked off slowly together,talking as cheerfully as a sense that the conversation must soon cometo an end would allow. The spot was reached all too soon, and Angelawith evident reluctance, for she was not accustomed to conceal herfeelings, said that she must now go.

  "Why must you go so soon?"

  "Well, to tell you the truth, to-day is my birthday--I am twentyto-day--and I know that Pigott, my old nurse, means to give me alittle present at breakfast, and she will be dreadfully disappointedif I am late. She has been thinking a great deal about it, you see."

  "May I wish you many, very many, happy returns of the day? and"--witha little hesitation--"may I also offer you a present, a very worthlessone I fear?"

  "How can I----" stammered Angela, when he cut her short.

  "Don't be afraid; it is nothing tangible, though it is something thatyou may not think worth accepting."

  "What do you mean?" she said bluntly, for her interest was aroused.

  "Don't be angry. My present is only the offer of myself as yoursincere friend."

  She blushed vividly as she answered,

  "You are very kind. I have never had but one friend--Mr. Fraser; but,if you think you can like me enough, it will make me very happy to beyour friend too." And in another second she was gone, with her ravensflying after her, to receive her present and a jobation from Pigottfor being late, and to eat her breakfast with such appetite as anentirely new set of sensations can give.

  In the garden she met her father, walking up and down before thehouse, and informed him that she had been talking to Mr. Heigham. Helooked up with a curious expression of interest.

  "Why did you not ask him in to breakfast?" he said.

  "Because there is nothing to eat except bread and milk."

  "Ah!--well, perhaps you were right. I will go down and speak to him.No; I forgot I shall see him this afternoon."

  And Arthur, let those who disbelieve in love at first sight laugh ifthey will, sat down to think, trembling in every limb, utterly shakenby the inrush of a new and strong emotion. He had not come to the ageof twenty-four without some experience of the other sex, but neverbefore had he known any such sensation as that which now overpoweredhim, never before had he fully realized what solitude meant as he didnow that she had left him. In youth, when love does come, he comes asa strong man armed.

  And so, steady and overwhelming all resistance, the full tide of apure passion poured itself into his heart. There was no pretence ormake-believe about it; the bold that sped from Angela's grey eyes hadgone straight home, and would remain an "ever-fixed mark," so long aslife itself should last.

  For only once in a lifetime does a man succumb after this fashion. Tomany, indeed, no such fortune--call it good or ill--will ever come,since the majority of men flirt or marry, indulge in "platonicfriendships," or in a consistent course of admiration of theirneighbours' wives, as fate or fancy leads them, and wear their timeaway without ever having known the meaning of such love as this. Thereis no fixed rule about it; the most unlikely, even the more sordid andcontemptible of mankind, are liable to become the subjects of anenduring passion; only then it raises them; for though strongaffection, especially, if unrequited, sometimes wears and enervatesthe mind, its influence is, in the main, undoubtedly ennobling. But,though such affection is bounded by no rule, it is curious to observehow generally true are the old sayings which declare that a man'sthoughts return to his first real love, as naturally and unconsciouslyas the needle, that has for a while been drawn aside by someovermastering influence, returns to its magnetic pole. The needle haswavered, but it has never shaken off its allegiance; that would beagainst nature, and is therefore impossible; and so it is with theheart. It is the eves that he loved as a lad which he sees through thegathering darkness of his death-bed; it is a chance but that he willalways adore the star which first came to share his loneliness in thisshadowed world above all the shining multitudes in heaven.

  And, though it is not every watcher who will find it, early or late,that star may rise for him, as it did for Arthur now. A man may meet aface which it is quite beyond his power to forget, and be touched oflips that print their kiss upon his very heart. Yes, the star mayrise, to pursue its course, perhaps beyond the ken of his horizon, oronly to set again before he has learnt to understand its beauty--rarely, very rarely, to shed its perfect light upon him for all histime of watching. The star may rise and set; the sweet lips whosetouch still thrills him after so many years may lie to-day

  "Beyond the graveyar
d's barren wall,"

  or, worse still, have since been sold to some richer owner. But ifonce it has risen, if once those lips have met, the memory _must_remain; the Soul knows no forgetfulness, and, the little thread oflife spun out, will it not claim its own? For the compact that it hassealed is holy among holy things; that love which it has given is ofits own nature, and not of the body alone--it is inscrutable as death,and everlasting as the heavens.

  Yes, the fiat has gone forth; for good or for evil, for comfort or forscorn, for the world and for eternity, he loves her! Henceforth thatlove, so lightly and yet so irredeemably given, will become theguiding spirit of his inner life, rough-hewing his destinies,directing his ends, and shooting its memories and hopes through thewhole fabric of his being like an interwoven thread of gold. He maysin against it, but he can never forget it; other interests and tiesmay overlay it, but they cannot extinguish it; he may drown itsfragrance in voluptuous scents, but, when these have satiated andbecome hateful, it will re-arise, pure and sweet as ever. Time orseparation cannot destroy it--for it is immortal; use cannot stale it,pain can only sanctify it. It will be to him as a beacon-light to thesea-worn mariner that tells of home and peace upon the shore, as arainbow-promise set upon the sky. It alone of all things pertaining tohim will defy the attacks of the consuming years, and when, old andwithered, he lays him down to die, it will at last present itselfbefore his glazing eyes, an embodied joy, clad in shining robes, andbreathing the airs of Paradise!

  For such is love to those to whom it has been given to see him face toface.