CHAPTER II.
I must not dwell long upon the youthful scenes of the lad I have justintroduced to the reader; but as it is absolutely needful that hispeculiar character should be clearly understood, I must suffer it todisplay itself a little farther before I step from his boyhood to hismaturity.
We left Philip Hastings senseless upon the ground, at the feet of hisold preceptor, struck down by the sudden intelligence he had received,without warning or preparation.
The old man was immeasurably shocked at what he had done, and hereproached himself bitterly; but he had been a man of action all hislife, who never suffered thought, whether pleasant or painful, toimpede him. He could think while he acted, and as he was a strong mantoo, he had no great difficulty in taking the slight, pale youth up inhis arms, and carrying him over the park stile, which was close athand, as the reader may remember. He had made up his mind at once tobear his young charge to a small cottage belonging to a laborer on theother side of the road which ran under the park wall; but on reachingit, he found that the whole family were out walking in the fields, andboth doors and windows were closed.
This was a great disappointment to him, although there was a veryhandsome house, in modern taste, not two hundred yards off. But therewere circumstances which made him unwilling to bear the son of SirJohn Hastings to the dwelling of his next neighbor. Next neighbors arenot always friends; and even the clergyman of the parish may have hislikings and dislikings.
Colonel Marshal and Sir John Hastings were political opponents. Thelatter was of the Calvinistic branch of the Church of England--notabsolutely a non-juror, but suspected even of having, a tendency thatway. He was sturdy and stiff in his political opinions, too, and hadbut small consideration for the conscientious views and sincereopinions of others. To say the truth, he was but little inclined tobelieve that any one who differed from him had conscientious views orsincere opinions at all; and certainly the demeanor, if not theconduct, of the worthy Colonel did not betoken any fixed notion orstrong principles. He was a man of the Court--gay, lively, even witty,making a jest of most things, however grave and worthy of reverence.He played high, generally won, was shrewd, complaisant, and particularin his deference to kings and prime ministers. Moreover, he was of thevery highest of the High Church party--so high, indeed, that those whobelonged to the Low Church party, fancied he must soon topple overinto Catholicism.
In truth, I believe, had the heart of the Colonel been very strictlyexamined, it would have been found very empty of anything like realreligion. But then the king was a Roman Catholic, and it was pleasantto be as near him as possible.
It may be asked, why then did not the Colonel go the same length ashis Majesty? The answer is very simple. Colonel Marshal was a shrewdobserver of the signs of the times. At the card table, after the threefirst cards were played, he could tell where every other card in thepack was placed. Now in politics he was nearly as discerning; and heperceived that, although King James had a great number of honors inhis hand, he did not hold the trumps, and would eventually lose thegame. Had it been otherwise, there is no saying what sort of religionhe might have adopted. There is no reason to think thatTransubstantiation would have stood in the way at all; and as for theCouncil of Trent, he would have swallowed it like a roll for hisbreakfast.
For this man, then, Sir John Hastings had both a thorough hatred and aprofound contempt, and he extended the same sensations to every memberof the family. In the estimation of the worthy old clergyman theColonel did not stand much higher; but he was more liberal toward theColonel's family. Lady Annabelle Marshal, his wife, was, when in thecountry, a very regular attendant at his church. She had beenexceedingly beautiful, was still handsome, and she had, moreover, asweet, saint-like, placid expression, not untouched by melancholy,which was very winning, even in an old man's eyes. She was known, too,to have made a very good wife to a not very good husband; and, to saythe truth, Dr. Paulding both pitied and esteemed her. He went butlittle to the house, indeed, for Colonel Marshal was odious to him;and the Colonel returned the compliment by never going to the church.
Such were the reasons which rendered the thought of carrying youngPhilip Hastings up to The Court--as Colonel Marshal's house wascalled--anything but agreeable to the good clergyman. But then, whatcould he do? He looked in the boy's face. It was like that of acorpse. Not a sign of returning animation showed itself. He had heardof persons dying under such sudden affections of the mind; and sostill, so death-like, was the form and countenance before him, as helaid the lad down for a moment on the bench at the cottage door, thathis heart misgave him, and a trembling feeling of dread came over hisold frame. He hesitated no longer, but after a moment's pause to gainbreath, caught young Hastings up in his arms again, and hurried awaywith him toward Colonel Marshal's house.
I have said that is was a modern mansion; that is to imply, that itwas modern in that day. Heaven only knows what has become of it now;but Louis Quatorze, though he had no hand in the building of it, hadmany of its sins to answer for--and the rest belonged to Mansard. Itwas the strangest possible contrast to the old-fashioned country seatof Sir John Hastings, who had his joke at it, and at the ownertoo--for he, too, could jest in a bitter way--and he used to say thathe wondered his neighbor had not added his own name to the building,to distinguish it from all other courts; and then it would have beenCourt Marshal. Many were the windows of the house; many the ornaments;pilasters running up between the casements, with sunken panels,covered over with quaint wreaths of flowers, as if each had anembroidered waistcoat on; and a large flight of steps running downfrom the great doorway, decorated with Cupids and cornucopias runningover with this most indigestible kind of stone-fruit.
The path from the gates up to the house was well graveled, and ran inand out amongst sundry parterres, and basins of water, with theTritons, &c., of the age, all spouting away as hard as a largereservoir on the top of the neighboring slope could make them. But forserviceable purposes these basins were vain, as the water was neversuffered to rise nearly to the brim; and good Dr. Paulding gazed onthem without hope, as he passed on toward the broad flight of steps.
There, however, he found something of a more comfortable aspect. Thepath he had been obliged to take had one convenience to the dwellersin the mansion. Every window in that side of the house commanded aview of it, and the Doctor and his burden were seen by one pair ofeyes at least.
Running down the steps without any of the frightful appendages of theday upon her head, but her own bright beautiful hair curling wild likethe tendrils of a vine, came a lovely girl of fourteen or fifteen,just past the ugly age, and blushing in the spring of womanhood. Therewas eagerness and some alarm in her face: for the air and haste of theworthy clergyman, as well as the form he carried in his arms, spoke asplainly as words could have done that some accident had happened; andshe called to him, at some distance, to ask what was the matter.
"Matter, child! matter!" cried the clergyman, "I believe I have halfkilled this poor boy."
"Killed him!" exclaimed the girl, with a look of doubt as well assurprise.
"Ay, Mistress Rachael," replied the old man, "killed him by unkindlyand rashly telling him of his brother's death, without preparation."
"You intended it for kind, I am sure," murmured the girl in a sweetlow tone, coming down the steps, and gazing on his pale face, whilethe clergyman carried the lad up the steps.
"There, Miss Marshal, do not stay staring," said Dr. Paulding; "butpray call some of the lackeys, and bid them bring water or hartshorn,or something. Your lady-mother must have some essences to bringfolks out of swoons. There is nothing but swooning at Court, I amtold--except gaming, and drinking, and profanity."
The girl was already on her way, but she looked back, saying, "Myfather and mother are both out; but I will soon find help."
When the lad opened his eyes, there was something very near, whichseemed to him exceedingly beautiful--rich, warm coloring, like that ofa sunny landscape; a pair of liquid, tender eyes
, deeply fringed andfull of sympathy; and the while some sunny curls of bright brown hairplayed about his cheek, moved by the hay-field breath of the sweetlips that bent close over him.
"Where am I?" he said. "What is the matter? What has happened? Ah! nowI recollect. My brother--my poor brother! Was it a dream?"
"Hush, hush!" said a musical voice. "Talk to him, sir. Talk to him,and make him still."
"It is but too true, my dear Philip," said the old clergyman; "yourbrother is lost to us. But recollect yourself, my son. It is weak togive way in this manner. I announced your misfortune somewhatsuddenly, it is true, trusting that your philosophy was stronger thanit is--your Christian fortitude. Remember, all these dispensations arefrom the hand of the most merciful God. He who gives the sunshine,shall he not bring the clouds? Doubt not that all is merciful; andsuffer not the manifestations of His will to find you unprepared orunsubmissive."
"I have been very weak," said the young man, "but it was so sudden!Heaven! how full of health and strength he looked when he went away!He was the picture of life--almost of immortality. I was but as a reedbeside him--a weak, feeble reed, beside a sapling oak."
"'One shall be taken, and the other left,'" said the sweet voice ofthe young girl; and the eyes both of the youth and the old clergymanturned suddenly upon her.
Philip Hastings raised himself upon his arm, and seemed to meditatefor a moment or two. His thoughts were confused and indistinct. Heknew not well where he was. The impression of what had happened wasvague and indefinite. As eyes which have been seared by the lightning,his mind, which had lost the too vivid impression, now perceivedeverything in mist and confusion.
"I have been very weak," he said, "too weak. It is strange. I thoughtmyself firmer. What is the use of thought and example, if the mindremains thus feeble? But I am better now I will never yield thusagain;" and flinging himself off the sofa on which they had laid him,he stood for a moment on his feet, gazing round upon the old clergymanand that beautiful young girl, and two or three servants who had beencalled to minister to him.
We all know--at least, all who have dealt with the fiery things oflife--all who have felt and suffered, and struggled and conquered, andyielded and grieved, and triumphed in the end--we all know howshort-lived are the first conquests of mind over body, and how muchstrength and experience it requires to make the victory complete. Torender the soul the despot, the tyranny must be habitual.
Philip Hastings rose, as I have said, and gazed around him. Hestruggled against the shock which his mere animal nature had received,shattered as it had been by long and intense study, and neglect of allthat contributes to corporeal power. But everything grew hazy to hiseyes again. He felt his limbs weak and powerless; even his mindfeeble, and his thoughts confused. Before he knew what was coming, hesunk fainting on the sofa again, and when he woke from the dull sortof trance into which he had fallen, there were other faces around him;he was stretched quietly in bed in a strange room, a physician and abeautiful lady of mature years were standing by his bedside, and hefelt the oppressive lassitude of fever in every nerve and in everylimb.
But we must turn to good Doctor Paulding. He went back to his rectorydiscontented with himself, leaving the lad in the care of LadyAnnabelle Marshal and her family. The ordinary--as the man who carriedthe letters, was frequently called in those days--was to depart in anhour, and he knew that Sir John Hastings expected his only remainingeon in London to attend the body of his brother down to the familyburying place. It was impossible that the lad could go, and the oldclergyman had to sit down and write an account of what had occurred.
There was nothing upon earth, or beyond the earth, which would haveinduced him to tell a lie. True, his mind might be subject to suchself-deceptions as the mind of all other men. He might be induced tofind excuses to his own conscience for anything he did that waswrong--for any mistake or error in judgment; for, willfully, he neverdid what was wrong; and it was only by the results that he knew it.But yet he was eagerly, painfully upon his guard against himself. Heknew the weakness of human nature--he had dealt with it often, andobserved it shrewdly, and applied the lesson with bitter severity tohis own heart, detecting its shrinking from candor, its hankeringafter self-defense, its misty prejudices, its turnings and windings toescape conviction; and he dealt with it as hardly as he would havedone with a spoiled child.
Calmly and deliberately he sat down to write to Sir John Hastings afull account of what had occurred, taking more blame to himself thanwas really his due. I have his feet, gazing round upon the oldclergyman called it a full account, though it occupied but one page ofpaper, for the good doctor was anything but profuse of words; andthere are some men who can say much in small space. He blamed himselfgreatly, anticipating reproach; but the thing which he feared the mostto communicate was the fact that the lad was left ill at the house ofColonel Marshal, and at the house of a man so very much disliked bySir John Hastings.
There are some men--men of strong mind and great abilities--who gothrough life learning some of its lessons, and totally neglectingothers--pre-occupied by one branch of the great study, and seeingnothing in the course of scholarship but that. Dr. Paulding had noconception of the change which the loss of their eldest son hadwrought in the heart of Sir John and Lady Hastings. The second--theneglected one--had now become not only the eldest, but the only one.His illness, painfully as it affected them, was a blessing to them. Itwithdrew their thoughts from their late bereavement. It occupied theirmind with a new anxiety. It withdrew it from grief and fromdisappointment. They thought little or nothing of whose house he wasat, or whose care he was under; but leaving the body of their deadchild to be brought down by slow and solemn procession to the country,they hurried on before, to watch over the one that was left.
Sir John Hastings utterly forgot his ancient feelings toward ColonelMarshal. He was at the house every day, and almost all day long, andLady Hastings was there day and night.
Wonderful how--when barriers are broken down--we see the objectsbrought into proximity under a totally different point of view fromthat in which we beheld them at a distance. There might be somestiffness in the first meeting of Colonel Marshal and Sir JohnHastings, but it wore off with exceeding rapidity. The Colonel'skindness and attention to the sick youth were marked. Lady Annabelledevoted herself to him as to one of her own children. Rachael Marshalmade herself a mere nurse. Hard hearts could only withstand suchthings. Philip was now an only child, and the parents were filled withgratitude and affection.