Episode 5

“A lamp, burning under a shade of ground-glass, showed a handsome apartment, wainscoted with oak; supper was laid on the table; by the fire-place, standing as if waiting our entrance, appeared a lady; she was young, tall, and well shaped; her dress was handsome and fashionable: so much my first glance sufficed to ascertain.A gay salutation passed between her and Mr.Crimsworth; she chid him, half playfully, half poutingly, for beinglate; her voice (I always take voices into the account in judging of character) was lively—it indicated, I thought, good animal spirits.Mr.Crimsworth soon checked her animated scolding with a kiss— a kiss that still told of the bridegroom (they had not yet been married a year); she took her seat at the supper-table in first-rate spirits.Perceiving me, she begged my pardon for not noticing me before, and then shook hands with me, as ladies do when a flow of good-humour disposes them to be cheerful to all, even the most indifferent of their acquaintance.It was now further obvious to me that she had a good complexion, and features sufficiently marked but agreeable; her hair was red—quite red.She and Edward talked much, always in a vein of playful contention; she was vexed, or pretended to be vexed, that he had that day driven a vicious horse in the gig, and he made light of her fears.Sometimes she appealed to me.

“‘Now, Mr.William, isn’t it absurd in Edward to talk so? Hesays he will drive Jack, and no other horse, and the brute has thrown him twice already.

“She spoke with a kind of lisp, not disagreeable, but childish.Isoon saw also that there was more than girlish—a somewhat infantine expression in her by no means small features; this lisp and expression were, I have no doubt, a charm in Edward’s eyes, and would be so to those: of most men, but they were not to mine.I sought her eye, desirous to read there the intelligence which I could not discern in her face or hear in her conversation; it was merry, rather small; by turns I saw vivacity, vanity, coquetry, look out through its irid, but I watched in vain for a glimpse of soul.I am no Oriental; white necks, carmine lips and cheeks, clusters of bright curls, do not suffice for me without that Promethean sparkwhich will live after the roses and lilies are faded, the burnished hair grown grey.In sunshine, in prosperity, the flowers are very well; but how many wet days are there in life—November seasons of disaster, when a man’s hearth and home would be cold indeed, without the clear, cheering gleam of intellect.

“Having perused the fair page of Mrs.Crimsworth’s face, a deep, involuntary sigh announced my disappointment; she took it as a homage to her beauty, and Edward, who was evidently proud of his rich and handsome young wife, threw on me a glance—half ridicule, half ire.

“I turned from them both, and gazing wearily round the room, I saw two pictures set in the oak panelling—one on each side the mantel-piece.Ceasing to take part in the bantering conversation that flowed on between Mr.and Mrs.Crimsworth, I bent my thoughts to the examination of these pictures.They were portraits—a lady and a gentleman, both costumed in the fashion of twenty years ago.The gentleman was in the shade.I could not see him well.The lady had the benefit of a full beam from the softly shaded lamp.I presently recognised her; I had seen this picture before in childhood; it was my mother; that and the companion picture being the only heir-looms saved out of the sale of my father’s property.

“The face, I remembered, had pleased me as a boy, but then I did not understand it; now I knew how rare that class of face is in the world, and I appreciated keenly its thoughtful, yet gentle expression.The serious grey eye possessed for me a strong charm, as did certain lines in the features indicative of most true and tender feeling.I was sorry it was only a picture.

“I soon left Mr.and Mrs.Crimsworth to themselves; a servantconducted me to my bed-room; in closing my chamber-door, I shut out all intruders—you, Charles, as well as the rest.—Good-bye for the present,“WILLIAM CRIMSWORTH.”

To this letter I never got an answer; before my old friend received it, he had accepted a Government appointment in one of the colonies, and was already on his way to the scene of his official labours.What has become of him since, I know not.

The leisure time I have at command, and which I intended toemploy for his private benefit, I shall now dedicate to that of the public at large.My narrative is not exciting, and above all, not marvellous; but it may interest some individuals, who, having toiled in the same vocation as myself, will find in my experience frequent reflections of their own.The above letter will serve as an introduction.I now proceed.