CHAPTER IV
Con una Dama tenia
Un galan conversacion.4
MALTRAVERS was first at the appointed place. His character was in most respects singularly energetic, decided, and premature in its development; but not so in regard to women: with them he was the creature of the moment; and, driven to and fro by whatever impulse, or whatever passion, caught the caprice of a wild, roving, and all-poetical imagination, Maltravers was, half unconsciously, a poeta poet of action, and woman was his muse.
He had formed no plan of conduct towards the poor girl he was to meet. He meant no harm to her. If she had been less handsome, he would have been equally grateful; and her dress, and youth, and condition, would equally have compelled him to select the hour of dusk for an interview.
He arrived at the spot. The winter night had already descended; but a sharp frost had set in: the air was clear, the stars were bright, and the long shadows slept, still and calm, along the broad road, and the whitened fields beyond.
He walked briskly to and fro, without much thought of the interview, or its object, half chanting old verses, German and English, to himself, and stopping to gaze every moment at the silent stars.
At length he saw Alice approach: she came up to him timidly and gently. His heart beat more quickly; he felt that he was young and alone with beauty. Sweet girl, he said, with involuntary and mechanical compliment, how well this light becomes you. How shall I thank you for not forgetting me?
Alice surrendered her hand to his without a struggle.
What is your name? said he, bending his face down to hers.
Alice Darvil.
And your terrible father,is he, in truth, your father?
Indeed he is my father and mother too!
What made you suspect his intention to murder me? Has he ever attempted the like crime?
No; but lately he has often talked of robbery. He is very poor, sir. And when I saw his eye, and when afterwards, while your back was turned, he took the key from the door, I felt thatthat you were in danger.
Good girlgo on.
I told him so when we went up-stairs. I did not know what to believe, when he said he would not hurt you; but I stole the key of the front door, which he had thrown on the table, and went to my room. I listened at my door; I heard him go down the stairshe stopped there for some time; and I watched him from above. The place where he was opened to the field by the back-way. After some time, I heard a voice whisper him; I knew the voice, and then they both went out by the back-way; so I stole down, and went out and listened; and I knew the other man was John Walters. Im afraid of him, sir. And then Walters said, says he, I will get the hammer, and, sleep or wake, well do it. And father said, Its in the shed. So I saw there was no time to be lost, sir, andandbut you know all the rest.
But how did you escape?
Oh, my father, after talking to Walters, came to my room, and beat andandfrightened me; and when he was gone to bed, I put on my clothes, and stole out; it was just light; and I walked on till I met you.
Poor child, in what a den of vice you have been brought up!
Anan, sir.
She dont understand me. Have you been taught to read and write?
Oh no!
But I suppose you have been taught, at least, to say your catechismand you pray sometimes?
I have prayed to father not to beat me.
But to God?
God, sirwhat is that?5
Maltravers drew back, shocked and appalled. Premature philosopher as he was, this depth of ignorance perplexed his wisdom. He had read all the disputes of schoolmen, whether or not the notion of a Supreme Being is innate; but he had never before been brought face to face with a living creature who was unconscious of a God.
After a pause, he said: My poor girl, we misunderstand each other. You know that there is a God?
No, sir.
Did no one ever tell you who made the stars you now surveythe earth on which you tread?
No.
And have you never thought about it yourself?
Why should I? What has that to do with being cold and hungry?
Maltravers looked incredulous. You see that great building, with the spire rising in the starlight?
Yes, sir, sure.
What is it called?
Why, a church.
Did you never go into it?
No.
What do people do there?
Father says one man talks nonsense, and the other folk listen to him.
Your father isno matter. Good heavens! what shall I do with this unhappy child?
Yes, sir, I am very unhappy, said Alice, catching at the last words; and the tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
Maltravers never was more touched in his life. Whatever thoughts of gallantry might have entered his young head, had he found Alice such as he might reasonably have expected, he now felt that there was a kind of sanctity in her ignorance; and his gratitude and kindly sentiment towards her took almost a brotherly aspect.You know, at least, what school is? he asked.
Yes, I have talked with girls who go to school.
Would you like to go there, too?
Oh, no, sir, pray not!
What should you like to do, then? Speak out, child. I owe you so much, that I should be too happy to make you comfortable and contented in your own way.
I should like to live with you, sir. Maltravers started, and half smiled, and coloured. But looking on her eyes, which were fixed earnestly on his, there was so much artlessness in their soft, unconscious gaze, that he saw she was wholly ignorant of the interpretation that might be put upon so candid a confession.
I have said that Maltravers was a wild, enthusiastic, odd beinghe was, in fact, full of strange German romance and metaphysical speculations. He had once shut himself up for months to study astrologyand been even suspected of a serious hunt after the philosophers stone; another time he had narrowly escaped with life and liberty from a frantic conspiracy of the young republicans of his university, in which, being bolder and madder than most of them, he had been an active ringleader; it was, indeed, some such folly that had compelled him to quit Germany sooner than himself or his parents desired. He had nothing of the sober Englishman about him. Whatever was strange and eccentric had an irresistible charm for Ernest Maltravers. And agreeably to this disposition, he now revolved an idea that enchanted his mobile and fantastic philosophy. He himself would educate this charming girlhe would write fair and heavenly characters upon this blank pagehe would act the Saint Preux to this Julie of Nature. Alas, he did not think of the result which the parallel should have suggested. At that age, Ernest Maltravers never damped the ardour of an experiment by the anticipation of consequences.