Lovers and Husbands CHAPTER 7.
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On the evening after Flora's return to Rose Hill, Doctor Arlington called over to see her. Never had he before appeared in her eyes to less advantage. The plainness of his exterior seemed plainer than ever; his manners more awkward; his speech less elegant. She felt embarrassed while he stayed, and conversed with less freedom and interest than she had ever done before. His departure was felt as a great relief.
To her mother, she had not yet confided the real cause of her sudden return from the city. She hardly knew how to do so. Mr. Garnett had not made overtures to her; nor was there about Emily's communication, a definiteness which could be relied upon. Half regretting her hasty return, she retired early to bed — but not to sleep. For hours she lay awake, deeply pondering the new position in which she found herself. The longer she thought — thinking, as she did, too fully from her predominant feelings, and not above them — the more was she inclined to favor the advances of the young attorney. His personal accomplishments, which were of a high order, claimed her fullest admiration; and, like too many, she allowed herself to fall into just the error she had not many months before condemned in her friend Emily — that of inferring from a fair exterior — the existence of true principles. When she at last fell away into sleep, it was with the image of Garnett pictured pleasantly upon her mind, where it still lingered through the night-watches, the presiding brilliance of sweet dreams.
In the morning she felt less inclined than ever to open her heart to her mother, for fear that her colder mind might quickly find reasons for a prudent suspension of favorable impressions, until the character of the young man were more fully known. This her own judgment told her, as it had told her at first, was the only safe course, and this course she intended to pursue; but she was afraid that her mother would endeavor to make her pursue it too rigidly, and, therefore, felt as if she would rather not yet open up her whole mind. That day passed, and the next morning came. Soon after breakfast, a letter from Emily was brought to her. She retired to her own room, and there broke the seal. It read thus:
"My Dear Flora — Everybody is asking why you have left for Rose Hill so suddenly. What shall I say? What can I say? I know the true reason; but it will not do to tell that. Garnett is surprised and troubled. He intends riding over to see you; but hadn't you better return? He is serious in the regard he feels for you, and, I think, is eminently worthy of your hand. But this you will have to decide for yourself; and, in doing so, you ought to have the very best opportunities for forming a correct judgment. This you cannot do if you remain where you are, and see him only occasionally. If he is in all things such as your heart can approve, you ought to know it; and if not, it is just as necessary for you to know the truth, that you may decide for yourself from clear rational convictions. I wish you could have seen how disappointed he was when we told him that you had gone home. He did not hesitate to say that you had interested him more than any one he had ever seen, and that the loss of your society would be felt as no ordinary privation. The fact is, dear, you have fully made a conquest of him; he is yours if you will take him; and if you do not, I shall think you the strangest girl I have ever known. Won't you come back to the city? Please do, just for my sake. You can't imagine how much I miss you. Nothing seems to me as it did. Write me immediately, and say when we shall see you, or bring an answer to this yourself. Ever your friend, Emily."
Flora read over this letter twice before she fully understood it. The first reading threw her mind into confusion. It was only after the second perusal that she could compose her thoughts. But even after thinking for an hour, with a mind tolerably clear, she was unable to determine how she ought to act. To return to New York, after having left it as she did, presented itself to her as unmaidenly; her delicacy of feeling shrunk from it; it would be like courting the attentions of Mr. Garnett; but her inclination to do so was active, and furnished its reasons, which were strongly urged. At length she sat herself down to reply to Emily's letter. Among other things, she said,
"I do not think I shall go back to New York for at least some weeks. I need time for reflection. I cannot conceal from myself that Mr. Garnett has made more than a mere favorable impression upon me. This is, of course, for your own ear alone. This confession, you must keep even from your husband. A wife may hold sacred the heart-secrets of her maiden friends, without any violation of marital confidence. Perhaps, after the time I have mentioned has elapsed, I may return to you again; but I am unable now to speak with certainty. In the mean time, I want my mind to remain as calm and clear as possible. I want to know truly the nature of my own feelings."
Emily did not deem the concealment of her friend's secret from her husband, a very sacred obligation, and he was in no way scrupulous about informing Garnett of the admission made in his favor. The latter had changed his mind about going immediately to Rose Hill, it having been determined that Emily should first write, and thus a knowledge of Flora's real sentiments be obtained. This knowledge being now in his possession, Garnett could determine for himself how to act. Instead of adopting an open, manly course, and visiting Flora at Rose Hill without any disguise — he spent several days in studying the best method of approaching her. During this time he had frequent interviews with the husband of Emily, and with Emily herself.
"If I visit her at Rose Hill immediately," he said to the latter, while he was now yet undetermined how to act, "I may seem to her too anxious to press my suit; or, were I to do so, her delicacy of feeling might prevent her returning to the city — as then the appearance would be that she did so in order to meet me more frequently. Besides, if I seemindifferent towards her, the thought of this indifference may act as a foil to the preference she has confessed, and make it much more distinct in her own mind. What do you think?"
Emily's thoughts were not decided on the subject, and she could not, therefore, advise.
"I believe I had better hold off a while, at all events," was the conclusion of Garnett. "In the mean time, do keep up a constant correspondence with her; and, above all things, try and get her back to the city."
"Trust me for that. Perhaps you are right in deciding not to visit her in the country. Her mind is delicate. To do so might cause her to remain there, for fear her coming to the city might be thought to be for the purpose of throwing herself into your company."
Tact, not an open, high-minded course of action, was finally resolved upon. It proved successful. Emily soon ceased to speak of Garnett in her almost daily letters to her friend — but never omitted to urge strenuously her return to the city, for a few weeks at least, if no more. The solicitations of her friend, strongly seconded by her own inclinations, prevailed. Flora went back to New York in about ten days after her sudden withdrawal from mirthful city life. During the time of her stay in the country, Doctor Arlington visited her several times — but soon perceived a change in her. She was not so kind a friend — nor, to him, so agreeable a companion as she had formerly been. This he naturally attributed to the influence upon her mind of the winning allurements of society in a city like New York. To city scenes, a quiet country life and quiet country friends, contrasted too strongly. They could not satisfy a mind which the former had filled with delight.
The change in Flora's manner was sensibly felt by Arlington, who had a well-based affection for her; for it was grounded in a thorough appreciation of her moral and intellectualqualities. Nothing had been said to him by Flora of her intended return to New York, although he visited her on the evening previous to her departure. On the day following that on which she left, the doctor again called in at Rose Hill. His manifestation of surprise on learning that Flora was in New York, gave the mother a more accurate knowledge of his feelings than she had before possessed. She was not displeased at this, for she knew him well, and understood his real worth. The reason of her daughter's return was, she supposed, the urgent solicitations of the young bride, from whom a letter had come almost every day. Of the real cause, she had no suspicion. A whisper of that would have awakened great concern.
Arlington really loved Flora; but it was, with him, no suddenly-inspired sentiment. For a year and more, he had looked at her attentively, and marked the unfolding beauties of her mind. Her strong good sense, her quick appreciation of the beautiful in external nature, her love of truth, her entire freedom from maidenly arts and affectations — had for him a charm, and gave to their possessor the uppermost place in his affections. From admiration of these qualities in her mind, the transition to love of her person for their sakes, was easy and natural. But Arlington, at the same time that he could duly appreciate and ardently love a being like Flora Elton, was towards the whole gender, for whom he had a profound regard, amounting almost to admiration — timid and bashful. He never came into their presence that his mind did not lose its calm, even, philosophic tone. This rendered him awkward and very uninteresting; and, as the reader has seen in the case of Emily, subjected him often to ridicule: though it is but justice to say that Emily's description of him, when she chose to allude to his manners and appearance, were exaggerations.
The sudden and unannounced return of Flora to New York caused Doctor Arlington much pain of mind. He very naturally came to the true conclusion, strengthened by the indifference of her manner towards him, that her affections had been interested while in the city, and, influenced by these, she had gone back, to be near their object. As best he could, he solaced himself in this state of uncertainty, steadily discharging all the while the duties of his calling with unabated skill. No one saw that there was anything upon the mind of the quiet doctor, as, answering the calls upon him, he went from house to house, administering to the maladies which Providence had permitted to reach the bodies of his patients; and no one received fewer attentions, or had medicinal prescriptions of a less accurate nature — because the mind of the physician was not so tranquil as before. The reason was, because Doctor Arlington was governed in all the relations of life, by strictly conscientious principles. No pain of mind that he might suffer, could make him neglect his duty. That was his fellow-man's inalienable right, and he never withheld it; to have done so would have been a crime of equal magnitude with theft — would, in fact, have been theft, in intention and effect. In such a discharge of duty, there was a compensating effect. In it, he found much to soften the pain which, when not thus engaged, he naturally felt.
As for Flora, she met Mr. Garnett on her return to New York, with shrinking modesty, and yet with a heart-warm glow of pleasure. She knew that he loved her; for that had been declared to Emily, and, as the reader knows, at once communicated by his too meddlesome friend. His appearance, manners, tones, sentiments — all had for Flora new charms; she looked upon him with new eyes; her naturally cautious, discriminating character — her disposition to look at qualities rather than appearances — no longer existed, or, at least, only in a passive state. He seemed, in her eyes, perfection. But why? That question had not yet been seriously asked.
Every evening found him by her side, either in the quiet parlors of Mr. and Mrs. Whitney, or in public assemblies, prosecuting his suit with tact and caution. He endeavored to avoid awakening her clear judgment, by too direct advances, preferring to throw over her heart net after net, until he would be sure of a conquest, when the time came to push at once for victory. Within the charmed sphere that Garnett had thus thrown around her, Flora's strong mind lay almost passive, allowing her heart to rule all her conduct. That she was deeply interested in him, she did not attempt to conceal from herself; nor was she unconscious of the willingness she felt to accept his hand, if he should offer himself.
The present position of our characters will enable us now to introduce one or two more actors, whose influence upon subsequent incidents is important. This will be done in the next chapter.
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