Hearts Afire by J. D Rawden, Patrick Griffith Page B

amazement. She looked at Joris , and was just going to express her opinion, when Joris rose, pushed his chair aside, and said, come with thy
father, Charlotte , and down the garden we will walk, and see if there
are dahlias yet, and how grow the gold and the white chrysanthemums.”
    But all the time they were in the garden together, Joris never spoke of Mistress Gordon, nor of Charlotte's visit to her. About the
flowers, and the restless swallows, and the bluebirds, who still lingered,
silent and anxious, he talked.
    “ Every one speaks so highly of Sir Edward,” said
Charlotte; “so hard he tries to have many friends, and to be well spoken of.”
    “That is his way, Charlotte ; every man has his way.”
    “And I like not the way of Sir Edward.”
    “In business, then, he has a good name, honest and
prudent. He will make you a good husband.”
    But, though Joris said nothing to his daughter
concerning her visit to Mistress Gordon, he talked long with Lysbet about it. “What will be the end, thou may see by the
child's face and air,” he said; “the shadow and the heaviness are gone. Like
the old Charlotte she is tonight.”
    “And this afternoon comes here Sir Edward. Scarcely he believed me that Charlotte was out. Joris , what wilt
thou do about the young man?”
    “His fair chance he is to have, Lysbet . That to
the Elder Van Heemskirk is promised.”
    “The case now is altered. Sir Edward I like not. Little he thought of our
child's good name. With his sword he wounded her most. No patience have I with
the man. And his dark look thou should have seen when I said, “Charlotte is not
at home.” Plainly his eyes said to me, “Thou art lying.”
    So the loving, anxious parents, in their ignorance, planned. Even then,
accustomed in all their ways to move with caution, they saw no urgent need of
interference with the regular and appointed events of life. A few weeks hence
Sir Edward called again on Charlotte. His arm was still useless; his pallor and
weakness so great as to win, even from Lysbet , that
womanly pity which is often irrespective of desert. She brought him wine, she
made him rest upon the sofa, and by her quiet air of sympathy bespoke for him a
like indulgence from her daughter. Charlotte sat by her small wheel, unplaiting
some flax; and Sir Edward thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever
seen. He kept angrily asking himself why he had not perceived this rare
loveliness before; why he had not made sure his claim ere rivals had disputed
it with him. He did not understand that it was love which had called this
softer, more exquisite beauty into existence. The tender light in the eyes; the
flush upon the cheek; the lips, conscious of sweet words and sweeter kisses;
the heart, beating to pure and loving thoughts,—in short, the loveliness of the
soul, transfiguring the meaner loveliness of flesh and blood, Sir Edward had
perceived and wondered at; but he had not that kind of love experience which
divines the cause from the result.
    On the contrary, had Harleigh been watching
Charlotte, he would have been certain that she was musing on her lover. He
would have understood that bewitching languor, that dreaming silence, that
tender air and light and color which was the physical atmosphere of a soul
communing with its beloved; a soul touching things present only with its
intelligence, but reaching out to the absent with intensity of every loving
emotion.
    For some time the conversation was general. But no one's interest was in
their words, and presently Lysbet Morgan rose and
left the room. Her husband had said, “Sir Edward was to have some
opportunities;” and the words of Joris were a law of
love to Lysbet .
    Sir Edward was not slow to improve the favor. “Charlotte, I wish to speak to
you. I am weak and ill. Will you come here beside me?”
    She rose slowly, and stood beside him; but, when he tried to take her hands,
she clasped them behind her back.
    “So?” he asked; and the blood