I thought of my uncles; and as I was engaged in wondering whether Edwards indifference would equal the cold disdain I had always experienced from them, I heard the avenue gates open: wheels approached the house; Mr. Crimsworth was arrived; and after the lapse of some minutes[11], and a brief dialogue between himself and his servant in the hall, his tread drew near the library door that tread alone announced the master of the house.
I still retained some confused recollection of Edward as he was ten years ago a tall, wiry, raw youth; NOW, as I rose from my seat and turned towards the library door, I saw a fine-looking and powerful man, light-complexioned, well-made, and of athletic proportions; the first glance made me aware of an air of promptitude and sharpness, shown as well in his movements as in his port, his eye, and the general expression of his face. He greeted me with brevity, and, in the moment of shaking hands, scanned me from head to foot; he took his seat in the morocco covered arm-chair, and motioned me to another sent.
I expected you would have called at the counting-house in the Close, said he; and his voice, I noticed, had an abrupt accent, probably habitual to him; he spoke also with a guttural northern tone, which sounded harsh in my ears, accustomed to the silvery utterance of the South.
The landlord of the inn, where the coach stopped, directed me here, said I. I doubted at first the accuracy of his information[12], not being aware that you had such a residence as this.
Oh, it is all right! he replied, only I was kept half an hour behind time, waiting for you that is all. I thought you must be coming by the eight oclock coach.
I expressed regret that he had had to wait; he made no answer, but stirred the fire, as if to cover a movement of impatience; then he scanned me again.
I felt an inward satisfaction that I had not, in the first moment of meeting, betrayed any warmth, any enthusiasm; that I had saluted this man with a quiet and steady phlegm.
Have you quite broken with Tynedale and Seacombe? he asked hastily.
I do not think I shall have any further communication with them; my refusal of their proposals will, I fancy, operate as a barrier against all future intercourse.
Why, said he, I may as well remind you at the very outset of our connection[13], that no man can serve two masters. Acquaintance with Lord Tynedale will be incompatible with assistance from me. There was a kind of gratuitous menace in his eye as he looked at me in finishing this observation.
Feeling no disposition to reply to him, I contented myself with an inward speculation on the differences which exist in the constitution of mens minds. I do not know what inference Mr. Crimsworth drew from my silence whether he considered it a symptom of contumacity or an evidence of my being cowed by his peremptory manner. After a long and hard stare at me, he rose sharply from his seat.
To-morrow, said he, I shall call your attention to some other points; but now it is supper time, and Mrs. Crimsworth is probably waiting; will you come?
He strode from the room, and I followed. In crossing the hall, I wondered what Mrs. Crimsworth might be. Is she, thought I, as alien to what I like as Tynedale, Seacombe, the Misses Seacombe as the affectionate relative now striding before me? or is she better than these? Shall I, in conversing with her, feel free to show something of my real nature; or Further conjectures were arrested by my entrance into the dining-room.
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 being late; her voice (I always take voices into the account in judging of character[14]) 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, isnt it absurd in Edward to talk so? He says he will drive Jack, and no other horse, and the brute has thrown him twice already.
She spoke with a kind of lisp[15], not disagreeable, but childish. I soon 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 Edwards 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[16]. I am no Oriental; white necks, carmine lips and cheeks, clusters of bright curls, do not suffice for me without that Promethean spark which 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 mans hearth and home would be cold indeed, without the clear, cheering gleam of intellect.
Having perused the fair page of Mrs. Crimsworths 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 mantelpiece. 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 heirlooms saved out of the sale of my fathers property[17].
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 servant conducted me to my bedroom; in closing my chamber-door, I shut out all intruders[18] you, Charles, as well as the rest.