Part 48 (1/2)

”I will remember what you say, and do my very best,” said Laura earnestly, ”for I do sincerely respect Mr. Haldane for his efforts to retrieve the past, and I should despise myself did I not appreciate the delicate consideration he has shown for me if he has such feelings as you suppose. Auntie!” she exclaimed after a moment, a sudden light breaking in upon her, ”Mr. Haldane is your knight.”

”And a very plain, prosaic knight, no doubt, he seems to you.”

”I confess that he does, and yet when I think of it I admit that he has fought his way up against tremendous odds. Indeed, his present position in contrast with what he was involves so much hard fighting that I can only think of him as one of those plain, rugged men who have risen from the ranks.”

”Look for the plain and rugged characteristics when he next calls,” said Mrs. Arnot quietly. ”One would have supposed that such a rugged nature would have interposed some of his angles in your way.”

”Forgive me, auntie; I am inclined to think that I know very little about your knight; but it is natural that I should much prefer my own.

Your knight is like one of those remorseful men of the olden time who, partly from faith and partly in penance for past misdeeds, dons a suit of plain heavy iron armor, and goes away to parts unknown to fight the infidel. My knight is clad in s.h.i.+ning steel; nor is the steel less true because overlaid with a filagree of gold; and he will make the world better not by striking rude and ponderous blows, but by teaching it something of his own fair courtesy and his own rich culture.”

”Your description of Haldane is very fanciful and a little far-fetched,”

said Mrs. Arnot, laughing; ”should I reply in like vein I would only add that I believe that he will henceforth keep the 'white cross' on his knightly mantle unstained. Already he seems to have won a place in that ancient and honorable order established so many centuries ago, the members of which were ent.i.tled to inscribe upon their s.h.i.+elds the legend, 'He that ruleth his own spirit is better than he that taketh a city.' But we are carrying this fanciful imagery too far, and had better drop it altogether. I know that you will do for Haldane all that womanly delicacy permits, and that is all I wish. Mr. Beaumont's course toward you commands my entire respect. He long since asked both your uncle's consent and mine to pay you his addresses, and while we, of course, gave our approval, we have left you wholly free to follow the promptings of your own heart. In the world's estimation, Laura, it will be a brilliant alliance for each party; but my prayer shall be that it may be a happy and sympathetic union, and that you may find an unfailing and increasing content in each other's society. Nothing can compensate for the absence of a warm, kind heart, and the nature that is without it is like a home without a hearth-stone and a fire; the larger and more stately it is, the colder and more cheerless it seems.”

Laura understood her aunt's allusion to her own bitter disappointment, and she almost s.h.i.+vered at the possibility of meeting a like experience.

CHAPTER XLVIII

MRS. ARNOT'S KNIGHT

It will not be supposed that Haldane was either blind or indifferent during the long months in which Beaumont, like a skilful engineer, was making his regular approaches to the fair lady whom he would win. He early foresaw what appeared to him would be the inevitable result, and yet, in spite of all his fort.i.tude, and the frequency with which he a.s.sured himself that it was natural, that it was best, that it was right, that this peerless woman should wed a man of Beaumont's position and culture, still that gentleman's a.s.sured deliberate advance was like the slow and torturing contraction of the walls of that terrible chamber in the Inquisition which, by an imperceptible movement, closed in upon and crushed the prisoner. For a time he felt that he could not endure the pain, and he grew haggard under it.

”What's the matter, my boy?” said Mr. Growther abruptly to him one evening. ”You look as if something was a-gnawin' and a-eatin' your very heart out.”

He satisfied his old friend by saying that he did not feel well, and surely one sick at heart as he was might justly say this.

Mr. Growther immediately suggested as remedies all the drugs he had ever heard of, and even volunteered to go after them; but Haldane said with a smile,

”I would not survive if I took a tenth part of the medicines you have named, and not one of them would do me any good. I think I'll take a walk instead.”

Mr. Growther thought a few moments, and muttered to himself, ”What a cussed old fool I've been to think that rhubob and jallup could touch his case! He's got something on his mind,” and with a commendable delicacy he forbore to question and pry.

Gradually, however, Haldane obtained patience and then strength to meet what seemed inevitable, and to go forward with the strong, measured tread of a resolute soldier.

While pa.s.sing through his lonely and bitter conflict he learned the value and significance of that ancient prophecy, ”He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and we hid, as it were, our faces from him.” How long, long ago G.o.d planned and purposed to win the sympathy and confidence of the suffering by coming so close to them in like experience that they could feel sure--yes, know--that he felt with them and for them.

Never before had the young man so fully realized how vital a privilege it was to be a disciple of Christ--to be near to him--and enjoy what resembled a companions.h.i.+p akin to that possessed by those who followed him up and down the rugged paths of Judea and Galilee.

When, at last, Laura's engagement became a recognized fact, he received the intelligence as quietly as the soldier who is ordered to take and hold a position that will long try his fort.i.tude and courage to the utmost.

As for Laura, the weeks that followed her engagement were like a beautiful dream, but one that was created largely by the springing hopes and buoyancy of youth, and the witchery of her own vivid imagination.

The springtime had come again, and the beauty and promise of her own future seemed reflected in nature. Every day she took long drives into the country with her lover, or made expeditions to picture galleries in New York; again, they would visit public parks or beautiful private grounds in which the landscape gardener had lavished his art. She lived and fairly revelled in a world of beauty, and for the time it intoxicated her with delight.

There was also such a chorus of congratulation that she could not help feeling complacent. Society indorsed her choice so emphatically and universally that she was sure she had made no mistake. She was caused to feel that she had carried off the richest prize ever known in Hillaton, and she was sufficiently human to be elated over the fact.

Nor was the congratulation all on one side. Society was quite as positive that Beaumont had been equally fortunate, and there were some that insisted that he had gained the richer prize. It was known that Laura had considerable property in her own name, and it was the general belief that she would eventually become heiress of a large part of the colossal fortune supposed to be in the possession of Mr. and Mrs. Arnot.

In respect to character, beauty, accomplishments-in brief, the minor considerations in the world's estimation-it was admitted by all that Laura had few superiors. Mr. Beaumont's parents were lavish in the manifestations of their pleasure and approval. And thus it would seem that these two lives were fitly joined by the affinity of kindred tastes, by the congenial habits of equal rank, and by universal acclamation.