University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

Anonymous.

It was perhaps fortunate for the tranquillity
of all concerned, that during this period of their
opening confidence, the person of Mrs. Lechmere
came not between the bright image of
purity and happiness that Cecil presented in
each lineament and action, and the eyes of her
lover. The singular, and somewhat contradictory
interests that lady had so often betrayed in
the movements of her young kinsman, were
no longer visible to awaken his slumbering suspicious.
Even those inexplicable scenes in which
his aunt had so strangely been an actor, were forgotten
in the engrossing feelings of the hour; or,
if remembered at all, were only suffered to dim
the pleasing pictures of his imagination, as an airy
cloud throws his passing shadows across some
cheerful and lovely landscape. In addition to
those very natural auxiliaries, love and hope,
the cause of Mrs. Lechmere had found a very
powerful assistant, in the bosom of Lionel, through
an accident which had confined her for a long
period, not only to her apartment, but to her
bed.

On that day, when the critical operation was
performed on the person of Major Lincoln, his
aunt was known to have awaited the result in intense
anxiety. As soon as the favourable termination
was reported to her, she hastened towards
his room with an unguarded eagerness, which, added
to the general infirmities of her years, had nearly
cost the price of her life. Her foot became entangled
in her train, in ascending the stairs, but
disregarding the warning cry of Agnes Danforth,
with that sort of reckless vehemence that sometimes
broke through the formal decorum of her
manners, she sustained. in consequence, a fall
that might well have proved fatal to a much
younger woman. The injury she received was severe
and internal; and the inflammation, though
not high, was sufficiently protracted to arouse the
apprehensions of her attendants. The symptoms
were, however, now abating, and her recovery no
longer a matter of question.

As Lionel heard this from the lips of Cecil,
the reader will not imagine the effect produced
by the interest his aunt took in his welfare,
was at all lessened by the source whence he derived
his knowledge. Notwithstanding Cecil
dwelt on such a particular evidence of Mrs. Lechmere's
attachment to her nephew, with much earnestness,
it had not escaped Major Lincoln that
her name was but seldom introduced in their frequent
conversations, and never, on the part of his
companion, without a guarded delicacy that appeared
sensitive in the extreme. As their confidence,
however, increased with their hourly communications,
he began gently to lift the veil which
female reserve had drawn before her inmost feelings,
and to read a heart whose purity and truth
would have repaid a more difficult investigation.

When the party returned from the church, Cecil

and Agnes immediately hastened to the apartment
of the invalid, leaving Lionel in possession
of the little wainscoted parlour by himself; Polwarth
having proceeded to his own quarters, with
the assistance of the hunter. The young man
passed a few minutes in pacing the room, musing
deeply on the scene he had witnessed before the
church; now and then casting a vacant look on
the fanciful ornaments of the walls, among
which the armorial bearings of his own name
were so frequent, and in such honourable situations.
At length he heard that light footstep approach,
whose sound had now become too well
known to be mistaken, and in another instant he
was joined by Miss Dynevor.

“Mrs. Lechmere!” he said, leading her to a
settee, and placing himself by her side; “you
found her better, I trust?”

“So well that she intends adventuring, this
morning, an interview with your own formidable
self. Indeed, Lionel, you have every reason to
be grateful for the deep interest my grandmother
takes in your welfare! Ill as she has been,
her inquiries in your behalf were ceaseles; and
I have known her refuse to answer any questions
about her own critical condition, until her physician
had relieved her anxiety concerning yours.”

As Cecil spoke, the tears rushed into her eyes,
and her bloom deepened with the strength of her
feelings.

“It is to you, then, that much of my gratitude
is due,” returned Lionel; “for by permitting
me to blend my lot with yours, I find new
value in her eyes. Have you acquainted Mrs.
Lechmere with the full extent of my presumption?
She knows of our engagement?”

“Could I do otherwise? while your life was
in peril, I confined the knowledge of my interest

in your situation to my own breast; but when
we were flattered with the hopes of a recovery,
I placed your letter in the hands of my natural
adviser, and have the consolation of knowing that
she approves of my—what shall I call it, Lionel—
would not folly be the better word?”

“Call it what you will, so you do not disavow it.
I have hitherto forborne inquiring into the views
of Mrs. Lechmere, in tenderness to her situation;
but I may flatter myself, Cecil, that she will not
reject me?”

For a single instant the blood rushed tumultuously
over the fine countenance of Miss Dynevor,
suffusing even her temples and forehead with its
healthful bloom; but, as she cast a reproachful
glance at her lover, it deserted even her cheeks,
while she answered calmly, though with a slight
exhibition of displeasure in her air—

“It may have been the misfortune of my grandmother
to view the head of her own family with
too partial eyes; but, if it be so, her reward
should not be distrust. The weakness is, I dare
say, very natural, though not less a weakness.”

For the first time, Lionel fully comprehended
the cause of that variable manner with which Cecil
had received his attentions, until interest in his
person had stilled her sensitive feelings. Without,
however, betraying the least consciousness of
his intelligence, he answered—

“Gratitude does not deserve so forbidding a
name as distrust; nor will vanity permit me to
call partiality in my favour a weakness.”

“The word is a good and a safe term as applied
to poor human nature,” said Cecil, smiling
once more with all her native sweetness, “and you
may possibly overlook it when you recollect that
our foibles are sometimes hereditary.”

“I pardon your unkind suspicion for that gentle

acknowledgment. But I may now, without
hesitation, apply to your grandmother for her
consent to our immediate union?”

“You would not have your epithalamium
sung, when, at the next moment, you may be required
to listen to the dirge of some friend!”

“The very reason you urge against our marriage,
induces me to press it, Cecil. As the season
advances, this play of war must end. Howe
will either break out of his bounds, and drive the
Amricans from the hills, or seek some other point
for more active warfare. In either case you would
be left in a distracted and divided country, at an
age too tender for your own safety, rather the
guardian than the ward of your helpless parent.
Surely, Cecil, you would not hesitate to accept of
my protection at such a crisis, I had almost dared
to say, in tenderness to yourself, as well as to my
feelings!”

“Say on,” she answered; “I admire your ingenuity,
if not your argument. In the first place,
however, I do not believe your general can drive
the Americans from their posts so easily; for, by
a very simple process in figures, that even I understand,
you may find, if one hill costs so
many hundred men, that the purchase of the
whole would be too dear—nay, Lionel, do not
look so grave, I implore you! Surely, surely,
you do not think I would speak idly of a battle
that had nearly cost your life, and—and—
my happiness.”

“Say on,” said Lionel, instantly dismissing
the momentary cloud from his brow, and smiling
fondly in her anxious face; “I admire your casuistry,
and worship your feeling; but can, also,
deny your argument.”

Reassured by his voice and manner, after a

moment of extreme agitation, she continued in
the same playful tones as before—

“But we will suppose all the hills won, and
the American chief, Washington, who, though
nothing but a rebel, is a very respectable one,
driven into the country with his army at his
heels; I trust it is to be done without the assistance
of the women? Or, should Howe remove
his force, as you intimate, will he not leave the
town behind him? In either case I should remain
quietly where I am; safe in a British garrison,
or safer among my countrymen.”

“Cecil, you are alike ignorant of the dangers
and of the rude lawlessness of war! Though Howe
should abandon the place, 'twould be only for a
time; believe me, the ministry will never yield the
possession of a town like this, which has so long
dared their power, to men in arms against their
lawful prince.”

“You have strangely forgotten the last six
months, Lionel, or you would not accuse me of
ignorance of the misery that war can inflict!”

“A thousand thanks for the kind admission,
dearest Cecil, as well as for the hint,” said the
young man, shifting the ground of his argument
with the consistency, as well as the readiness of a
lover; “you have owned your sentiments to me,
and would not refuse to avow them again?”

“Not to one whose self-esteem will induce
him to forget the weakness; but, perhaps, I might
hesitate to do such a silly thing before the world.”

“I will then put in to your heart,” he continued,
without regarding the smiling coquetry
she had affected. “Believing the best, you will
admit that another battle would be no strange
occurrence?”

She raised her anxious looks to his face, but
remained silent.

“We both know—at least I know, from sad
experience, that I am far from being invulnerable.
Now, answer me, Cecil, not as a female struggling
to support the false pride of her sex, but as a
woman, generous and full of heart, like yourself—
were the events of the last six months to recur,
whether would you live them over, affianced
in secret, or as an acknowledged wife, who
might not blush to show her tenderness to the
world?”

It was not until the large drops that glistened at
his words upon the dark lashes of Miss Dynevor,
were shaken from the tremulous fringes that concealed
her eyes, that she looked up, blushing into
his face, and said—

“Do you not then think, that I endured enough,
as one who felt herself betrothed, but that closer
ties were necessary to fill the measure of my suffering?”

“I cannot even thank you as I would for
those flattering tears, until my question is plainly
answered.”

“Is this altogether generous, Lincoln?”

“Perhaps not in appearance, but sincerely so
in truth. By heaven, Cecil, I would shelter and
protect you from a rude contact with the world,
even as I seek my own happiness!”

Miss Dynevor was not only confused, but distressed;
she, however, said, in a low voice—

“You forget, Major Lincoln, that I have one
to consult, without whose approbation I can promise
nothing.”

“Will you, then, refer the question to her wisdom?
Should Mrs. Lechmere approve of our
immediate union, may I say to her, that you authorize
me to ask it?”

Cecil said nothing; but smiling through her
tears, she permitted Lionel to take her hand in a

manner that a much less sanguine man would
have found no difficulty in construing into an assent.

“Come, then,” he cried; “let us hasten to the
apartment of Mrs. Lechmere; did you not say
she expected me?” She suffered him to draw her
arm through his own, and lead her from the room.
Notwithstanding the buoyant hopes with which
Lionel conducted his companion through the passages
of the house, he did not approach the
chamber of Mrs. Lechmere without some inward
repugnance. It was not possible to forget
entirely all that had so recently passed, or to
still, effectually, those dark suspicions which
had been once awakened within his bosom. His
purpose, however, bore him onward, and a glance
at the trembling being who now absolutely leaned
on him for support, drove every consideration,
in which she did not form a most prominent
part, from his mind.

The enfeebled appearance of the invalid, with
a sudden recollection that she had sustained so
much, in consequence of her anxiety in his own
behalf, so far aided the cause of his aunt, that the
young man not only met her with cordiality, but
with a feeling akin to gratitude.

The indisposition of Mrs. Lechmere had now
continued for several weeks, and her features, aged
and sunken as they were by the general decay
of nature, afforded strong additional testimony of
the severity of her recent illness. Her face,
besides being paler and more emaciated than
usual, had caught that anxious expression which
great and protracted bodily ailing is apt to leave
on the human countenance. Her brow was, however,
smooth and satisfied, unless, at moments,
when a slight and involuntary play of the muscles
betrayed that fleeting pains continued, at short intervals,

to remind her of her illness. She received
her visiters with a smile that was softer
and more conciliating than usual, and which
the pallid and care-worn appearance of her features
rendered deeply impressive.

“It is kind, cousin Lionel,” she said, extending
her withered hand to her young kinsman, “in
the sick to come thus to visit the well. For after so
long apprehending the worst on your account, I
cannot consent that my trifling injury should be
mentioned before your more serious wounds.”

“Would, madam, that you had as happily recovered
from their effects as myself,” returned
Lionel, taking her hand and pressing it with great
sincerity. “I shall never forget that you owe
your illness to anxiety for me.”

“Let it pass, sir; it is natural that we should
feel strongly in behalf of those we love. I have
lived to see you well again, and, God willing, I
shall live to see this wicked rebellion crushed.”
She paused; and smiling, for a moment, on the
young pair who had approached her couch, she
continued, “Cecil hastold me all, Major Lincoln.”

“No, not all, dear madam,” interrupted Lionel;
“I have something yet to add; and in the
commencement, I will own that I depend altogether
on your pity and judgment to support my
pretensions.”

“Pretensions is an injudicious word, cousin
Lionel; where there is a perfect equality of birth,
education, and virtues, and, I may say, considering
the difference in the sexes, of fortune too, it may
amount to claims; but pretensions is an expresion
too ambiguous. Cecil, my child, go to my
library; in the small, secret drawer of my escritoir,
you will find a paper bearing your name; read it,
my love, and then bring it hither.”

She motioned to Lionel to be seated, and

when the door had closed on the retiring form of
Cecil, she resumed the conversation.

“As we are about to speak of business, the
confused girl may as well be relieved, Major Lincoln.
What is this particular favour that I shall
be required to yield?”

“Like any other sturdy mendicant, who may
have already partaken largely of your bounty, I
come to beg the immediate gift of the last and
greatest boon you can bestow.”

“My grandchild. There is no necessity for
useless reserves between us, cousin Lionel, for
you will remember that I too am a Lincoln. Let
us then speak freely, like two friends, who have
met to determine on a matter equally near to the
heart of each.”

“Such is my earnest wish, Madam.—I have
been urging on Miss Dynevor the peril of the
times, and the critical situation of the country, in
both of which I have found the strongest reasons
for our immediate union.”

“And Cecil?—”

“Has been like herself; kind, but dutiful. She
refers me entirely to your decision, by which
alone she consents to be guided.”

Mrs. Lechmere made no immediate reply,
but her features powerfully betrayed the inward
workings of her mind. It certainly was not displeasure
that caused her to hesitate, her hollow
eye lighting with a gleam of satisfaction that
could not be mistaken; neither was it uncertainty,
for her whole countenance seemed to express
rather the uncontrollable agitation which might
accompany the sudden accomplishment of long-desired
ends, than any doubt as to their prudence.
Gradually her agitation subsided; and
as her feelings became more natural, her hard
eyes filled with tears, and when she spoke, there

was a softness mingled with the tremor of her
voice that Lionel had never before witnessed.

“She is a good and a dutiful child, my own,
my obedient Cecil! She will bring you no wealth,
Major Lincoln, that will be esteemed among
your hordes, nor any proud title to add to the
lustre of your honourable name; but she will
bring you what is as good, if not better—nay, I
am sure it must be better—a pure and virtuous
heart, that knows no guile!”

“A thousand and a thousand times more estimable
in my eyes, my worthy aunt!” cried
Lionel, melting before the touch of nature,
which had so effectually softened the harsh feelings
of Mrs. Lechmere; “let her come to my
arms pennyless, and without a name; she will be
no less my wife, no less her own invaluable self.”

“I spoke only by comparison, Major Lincoln;
the child of Colonel Dynevor, and the
granddaughter of the Lord Viscount Cardonnell,
can have no cause to blush for her lineage;
neither will the descendant of John Lechmere
be a dowerless bride! When Cecil shall become
Lady Lincoln, she need never wish to conceal
the escutcheon of her own ancestors under the
bloody hand of her husband's.”

“May heaven long avert the hour when either
of us may be required to use the symbol!” exclaimed
Lionel.

“Did I not understand aright! was not your
request for an instant marriage?”

“Never less in error, my dear Madam; but
you surely do not forget that one lives so mutually
dear to us, who has every reason to hope
for many years of life; and I trust, too, of
happiness and reason!”

Mrs. Lechmere looked wildly at her nephew,
and then passed her hand slowly before her eyes,

from whence she did not withdraw them until an
universal shudder had shaken the whole of her enfeebled
frame.

“You are right, my young cousin,” she said,
smiling faintly—“I believe my bodily weakness
has impaired my memory.—I was indeed dreaming
of days long since past! You stood before
me in the image of your desolate father, while Cecil
bore that of her mother; my own long-lost,
but wilful Agnes! Oh! she was my child, my
child! and God has forgotten her faults in mercy
to a mother's prayers!”

Lionel recoiled a step before the wild energy
of the invalid's manner, in speechless amazement.
A flush had passed into her pallid cheeks, and as
she concluded, she clasped her hands before
her, and sunk on the pillows which supported
her back. Large insulated tears fell from
her eyes, and slowly moving over her wasted
cheeks, dropped singly upon the counterpane.
Lionel laid his land upon the night-bell, but
an expressive gesture from his aunt prevented
his ringing.

“I am well, again,” she said—“hand me the
restorative by your side.”

Mrs. Lechmere drank freely from the glass, and
in another minute her agitation subsided, her features
settling into their rigid composure, and her
eye resuming its hard expression, as though
nothing had occurred to disturb her usual cold
and worldly look.

“You see how much better youth can endure
the ravages of disease than age, by my present
weakness, Major Lincoln,” she continued; “but
let us return to other, and more agreeable subjects—you
have not only my consent, but my
wish that you should wed my grandchild. It
a happiness that I have rather hoped

for, than dared to expect, and I will freely
add, 'tis a consummation of my wishes that will
render the evening of my days not only happy,
but blessed!”

“Then, dearest Madam, why should it be
delayed—no one can say what a day may bring
forth at such a time as this, and the moment
of bustle and action is not the hour to register
the marriage vows.”

After musing a moment, Mrs. Lechmere replied—

“We have a good and holy custom in this religious
province, of choosing the day which the
Lord has set apart for his own exclusive worship,
as that on which to enter into the honourable
state of matrimony. Choose, then, between
this or the next Sabbath for your nuptials.”

Whatever might be the ardour of the young
man, he was a little surprised at the shortness
of the former period; but the pride of his
sex would not admit of any hesitation.

“Let it be this day, if Miss Dynevor can be
brought freely to consent.”

“Here then she comes, to tell you, that at my
request, she does. Cecil, my own sweet child,
I have promised Major Lincoln that you will become
his wife this day.”

Miss Dynevor, who advanced into the centre
of the room, before she heard the purport of
this speech, stopped short, and stood like a beautiful
statue, expressing astonishment and dismay.
Her colour went and came with alarming quickness,
and the paper fell from her trembling hands
to her feet, which appeared riveted to the floor.”

“To-day!” she repeated, in a voice barely
audible—“did you say to-day, my grandmother?”

“Even to-day, my child.”

“Why this reluctance, this alarm, Cecil?” said
Lionel, approaching, and leading her gently
to a seat. “You know the peril of the times—
you have condescended to own your sentiments—
consider; the winter is breaking, and the first thaw
can lead to events which may entirely alter our
situation.”

“All these may have weight in your eyes,
Major Lincoln,” interrupted Mrs. Lechmere, in
a voice whose marked solemnity drew the attention
of her hearers; “but I have other and deeper
motives. Have I not already proved the dangers
and the evils of delay! Ye are young, and ye are
virtuous; why should ye not be happy? Cecil,
if you love and revere me, as I think you do,
you will become his wife this day.”

“Let me have time to think, dearest grandmother.
The tie is so new and so solemn! Major
Lincoln—dear Lionel, you are not wont to be
ungenerous; I throw myself on your kindness!”

Lionel did not speak, and Mrs. Lechmere
calmly answered—

“'Tis not at his, but at my request that you
will comply.”

Miss Dynevor rose from her seat by the side of
Lionel, with an air of offended delicacy, and said,
with a mournful smile, to her lover—

“Illness has rendered my good mother timid
and weak—will you excuse my desire to be alone
with her.”

“I leave you, Cecil,” he said, “but if you asscribe
my silence to any other motive than tenderness
to your feelings, you are unjust both to yourself
and me.”

She expressed her gratitude only in her looks,
and he immediately withdrew, to await the result
of their conversation in his own apartment. The
half-hour that Lionel passed in his chamber

seemed half a year, but at the expiration of
that short period of time, Meriton came to announce
that Mrs. Lechmere desired his presence
again in her room.

The first glance of her eye assured Major Lincoln
that his cause had triumphed. His aunt
had sunk back on her pillows, with her countenance
set in a calculating and rigid expression,
which indicated a satisfaction so selfish that it
almost induced the young man to regret she
had not failed. But when his eyes met the
tearful and timid glances of the blushing Cecil,
he felt, that provided she could be his without
violence to her feelings, he cared but little at
whose instigation she had consented.

“If I am to read my fate by your goodness, I
know I may hope,” he said, advancing to her
side—“if in my own deserts, I am left to despair.”

“Perhaps 'twas foolish, Lincoln,” she said,
smiling through her tears, and frankly placing
her hand in his, “to hesitate about a few days,
when I feel ready to devote my life to your happiness.
It is the wish of my grandmother that I
place myself under your protection.”

“Then this evening unites us for ever?”

“There is no obligation on your gallantry that
it should positively take place this very evening, if
any, or the least difficulties present.”

“But none do nor can,” interrupted Lionel.
“Happily the marriage forms of the colony are
simple, and we enjoy the consent of all who have
any right to interfere.”

“Go, then, my children, and complete your
brief arrangements,” said Mrs. Lechmere; “'tis
a solemn knot that ye tie! it must, it will be
happy!”

Lionel pressed the hand of his intended bride,
and withdrew, and Cecil throwing herself into the

arms of her grandmother, gave vent to her
feelings in a burst of tears. Mrs. Lechmere did
not repulse her child; on the contrary, she pressed
her once or twice to her heart, but still an observant
spectator might have seen that her looks
betrayed more of worldly pride, than of those natural
emotions which such a scene ought to have
excited.