University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
THE LOVER.

There could not be presented a stronger contrast than that exhibited
by the two young men who now entered from the piazza. The bold,
frank air of Freemantle, his fiery eye and look of decision, marked him
as a man of an active and daring life. The calm, quiet, intellectual
appearance of Henry Hood, the almost feminine softness of his manners,
though his character was firm and his courage unquestioned,
stamped him as a recluse; as a man who shrinks from the world and
who lives with books rather than with men. The dark cloth of his
coat contrasted strikingly with the picturesque and armed costume of
the young seaman. Although so opposite in habits and pursuits, a
a mutual regard seemed, all at once, to have sprung up between the
two young men, and they entered the room laughing and talking on
terms of the most cordial intimacy.

The eye of Freemantle sought that of the fair East Indian, with a
speaking glance that was eloquent with passionate love. Clara's eyes
dropped beneath the gaze, while her bosom throbbed with emotions of
sweet joy. Long had been the separation between her and Norman;
and that day they had met again under circumstances calculated to increase,
if possible, her strong attachment to him. They had not been
together alone for a moment since they had met on board the Indiaman,
and both were anxious for an opportunity to arrive when they might,
unobserved, interchange their hearts deep feelings.

`Your presence here, Miss Forrest,' said Henry, taking her hand
with a blush of embarrassment, `will make quite a revolution in our
quiet household! Mary will grow wild with joy, and I dare say we
shall all sympathise in her happiness, in having with her one she has
so long been taught to regard as a sister.' This was spoken with emotion,
and in a tone that was tremulous with some deep feeling.

`I am sure we feel like sisters,' said Clara, resting her large eyes,
as she spoke, full upon the handsome and intelligent countenance of
the student, whose own gaze fell confused before their brilliant fire.
He had never before known the power of woman's eyes, nor gazed

upon a style of beauty like hers! His embarrassment was visible to
his sister as well as to Miss Forrest, who smiled, and then added gravely,
`and I trust you will acknowledge me as a sister.'

This was spoken with slight emphasis. The beautiful girl had seen
the impression her beauty had made upon him. She had observed his
start of deep emotion when he was first presented to her by her father,
an hour before, when they reached the villa from the ship. His manner
now confirmed her in the conviction that the retiring student had
received an impression that it became her at once to efface. Woman
is never blind to the impressions her beauty makes. The effect produced
may be slight, impercepticle to others; but she discovers and
understands its character as if by instinct. No man ever looked upon
a woman with a glance of love, however timid and irresolved, without
betraying himself to the object of it. The glance of mere admiration,
the look of surprise at beholding unusual beauty, the gaze of idle homage,
the marked attention of the refined amateur are never mistaken
by her for the expression, hesitating eloquence of the eye, through
which the heart steals, and betrays tremblingly its secret.

`You will, I trust, acknowledge me as a sister,' therefore said the
beautiful girl to him, with just emphasis sufficient for him to understand,
if, perchance, he had indulged a thought of love towards one
who had no heart to return for his, and who respected him too much to
desire to allure him, to conquer and destroy.

`As a sister,' he answered in a low tone. His voice trembled. It
seemed as if he had much difficulty in articulating even the three
words of his reply. He had felt the full force of her reply. It had
pierced his soul. He understood her meaning. He felt that the
sweet dream of love which had began to evolve from the shadows of
his soul was dissipated in sudden darkness and gloom. He had indeed
loved the beautiful East-Indian from the moment he beheld her. Yes,
the quiet student who had never mixed in the society of females, who
had scarcely ever spoken with any save his sister, he had all at once
upon a brief interview with a perfect stranger, a child of a foreign
clime, surrendered his being to her power. But this love had not its
birth then. From early boyhood Clara Forrest had been the subject
of his hours of imagination and her image such as his romantic fancy
painted it, mingled in his dreams. The correspondence that was constantly
kept up between. Colonel Hood and the wealthy Indian merchant
had, as we have said, made the children of both intimate though
they had never seen each other. In one of Mr. Forrest's letters, written
when Clara was nine years old, was a glowing description of her
beauty with paternal anticipations of what the future promised. Henry
was then a romantic, studious boy of twelve years. This description
he read and it took a firm hold upon his imagination. He wrote sonnets
and addressed them to her; he loved to imagine her a beautiful
lady captive and himself an armed knight rescuing her and making her
his bride, Sometimes he would conceive her to be an Indian Princess
and he the warrior of her hand by his valor in arms.' As the boy grew
to manhood the image of the unknown East Indian beauty was divested
of much of its romance with which he had associated it; but his
imagination only resigned its office to the heart. Here, in the secret

chambers of his being his thoughts dwelt upon the ideal image of her
to whom he had there erected an altar. The student loved the unknown
being his strange passion had created. Clara Forrest indeed
was a real person; but the creation of his love was as ideal as if she
had never lived! He knew not that a face of glorious beauty which
always came up from the fountain of his soul when he would think of
her, was like her. It was as if he loved an imaginary being; and yet
in truth he loved one who had existence.

This passion was a secret between himself and his own soul. Not
even his own sister dreamed that he loved beyond his books. She
knew not that, at will, he could call up on every page an image of
beauty before which his soul bowed in adoration.

Was the image of his imagination like the reality? Did he recognize
in the beautiful stranger when he first beheld her, the features and
form of the ideal creature before which he had so long worshipped in
secret?

It was this recognition that had nearly overpowered him when he first
beheld her. He was standing at a window watching a party approaching
from the beach. He had seen them land and knew they were from
the merchantman. The sight of a female among them led both Mary
and Colonel Hood to exclaim that it might possibly be Mr. Forrest and
his daughter. With this idea they hastened to meet them, at any rate
welcome them if they should prove to be strangers. This idea at first
caused Henry to move eagerly on a few steps; but the next moment he
cheeked himself and with very strong emotion expressed in his features
and manner he returned to the window and watched them.

`I will see them when they meet!' he said; `if they embrace I shall
know it is Clara! Shall I then hasten to meet them also! How shall
I address one whom I have only addressed in the voiceless language of
the soul! If it is she shall I recognise in her the ideal of my hearts'
worship! Heaven grant me this happiness!

He beheld the parties' meet, and the next moment embrace. He
lingered a moment and then, irresolute, fled to his study to gather resolution.
His pulse throbbed wildly. To calm his thoughts he took
down Euclid and began to demonstrate one of the most close and difficult problems. This mental discipline was successful. In a little
while he rose from his table composed. He heard the voice of his sister
in the hall calling his name. He went forth and was met by her;

`They have come, brother! This is Clara! Clara this is my brother
Henry!'

He looked at the maiden. Their eyes met. He beheld before him
the reality of his ideal! His soul was in his gaze. The expression
startled her and betrayed to her the sweet of his life.

Overwhelmed with astonishment and wonder he felt if he lingered he
should fall before her and worship as he had done upon the altar of his
heart. With a strong intellectual effort he mastered his emotions, and
took the hand she had extended towards him. He said a few words of
welcome. But he seemed to himself to be dreaming. He felt bewildered
with a strange joy. He was oppressed with deep amazement.—
His soul was melted with sweet gratitud.

Mr. Forrest and Freemantle being then presented he had time to recover

his self-possession; and being drawn by the latter to the piazza
where the three vessels could be seen moving on their courses, he was
soon engaged in conversation and time was given him to control the
emotion which the extraordinary events just transpired had awakened.

The emotion of the student as he replied to Miss Forrest was not unobserved
by Freemantle. He made no remark nor seemed to notice
it. It was plam to him that his quiet friend was deeply moved by
the power of the beauty which had made him captive. He saw too by
her impressive reply, that Clara had discovered his awakening passion
and was warning him to subdue it.

The parties remained some minutes together in conversation, and
then Henry excused himself to Freemantle, left the parlor and hastened
to his study. In a moment or two his sister followed him leaving the
young Privateersman and the fair East Indian alone.

Freemantle met her eyes with a smile of joy and then going to the open
window to see that the two old gentlemen were at the farther end of
the piazza, he returned to her and folded her to his heart.

`My wife! My sweet wife!'

`Noble Norman! Dearest husband!'

`This meeting is indeed as unhoped for as it is most happy,' he said
as he again and again pressed her to his heart with the most tender demonstration
of affection.

`God be thanked, Norman, that we meet once more and under such
circumstances! What a sad, sad parting was our last!'

`Do not think of the past, dearest Clara! The present is ours!—
The past should never cast its shadow across it!'

`I speak of it only to be more grateful for the present happiness.

`We shall part no more!' said the young husband!'

`But my father?'

`He shall know all!'

`Hark! a foot-step approaches! Let the length of the room separate
us!'

`Ah, Captain Freemantle, you are here, hey?' said Colonel Hood!
Bravery and beauty should always be in each other's company. Come,
sir, Mr Forrest and I are going in to take a glass of wine, and I have
sought you to join us!'

`I will look at Mary's flowers the meanwhile,' said the lovely East
Indian turning as if to examine some plants, but to conceal the blushing
joy that she feared would too plainly betray her happiness.