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Page 25
The squire was equally annoyed. He could not avoid speaking of the
interview, for it irritated him, and was uppermost in his thoughts. He
detailed it with a faint air of pitying contempt. "The lad is upset with
the money and land he has come into, and the whole place is too small
for his greatness." That was what he said, and he knew he was unjust;
but the moral atmosphere between Steve and himself had become permeated
with distrust and dislike. Unhappy miasmas floated hither and thither in
it, and poisoned him. When with Stephen he hardly recognized himself: he
did not belong to himself. Sarcasm, contradiction, opposing ideas, took
possession of and ruled him by the forces of antipathy, just as others
ruled him by the forces of love and attraction.
The days that had been full of peaceful happiness were troubled in all
their hours; and yet the sources of trouble were so vague, so blended
with what he had called unto himself, that he could not give vent to his
unrest and disappointment. His life had had a jar; nothing ran smoothly;
and he was almost glad when Julius announced the near termination of his
visit. He had begun to feel as if Julius were inimical to him; not
consciously so, but in that occult way which makes certain foods and
drinks, certain winds and weathers, inimical to certain personalities.
His presence seemed to have blighted his happiness, as the north wind
blighted his myrtles. "If I could only have let 'well' alone. If I had
never written that letter." Many a time a day he said such words to his
own heart.
In the mean time, Julius was quite unconscious of his position. He was
thoroughly enjoying himself. If others were losing, he was not. He was
in love with the fine old hall. The simple, sylvan character of its
daily life charmed his poetic instincts. The sweet, hot days on the
fells, with a rod in his hand, and Charlotte and the squire for company,
were like an idyl. The rainy days in the large, low drawing-room,
singing with Sophia, or dreaming and speculating with her on all sorts
of mysteries, were, in their way, equally charmful. He liked to walk
slowly up and down, and to talk to her softly of things obscure,
cryptic, cabalistic. The plashing rain, the moaning wind, made just the
monotonous accompaniment that seemed fitting; and the lovely girl,
listening, with needle half-drawn, and sensitive, sensuous face lifted
to his own, made a situation in which he knew he did himself full
justice.
At such times he thought Sophia was surely his natural mate,--'the soul
that halved his own,' the one of 'nearer kindred than life hinted of.'
At other times he was equally conscious that he loved Charlotte Sandal
with an intensity to which his love for Sophia was as water is to wine.
But Charlotte's indifference mortified him, and their natures were
almost antagonistic to each other. Under such circumstances a great love
is often a dangerous one. Very little will turn it into hatred. And
Julius had been made to feel more than once the utter superfluity of his
existence, as far as Charlotte Sandal was concerned.
Still, he determined not to resign the hope of winning her until he was
sure that her indifference was not an affectation. He had read of women
who used it as a lure. If it were Charlotte's special weapon he was
quite willing to be brought to submission by it. After all, there was
piquancy in the situation; for to most men, love sought and hardly won
is far sweeter than love freely given.
Yet of all the women whom he had known, Charlotte Sandal was the least
approachable. She was fertile in preventing an opportunity; and if the
opportunity came, she was equally fertile in spoiling it. But Julius had
patience; and patience is the art and secret of hoping. A woman cannot
always be on guard, and he believed in not losing heart, and in waiting.
Sooner or later, the happy moment when success would be possible was
certain to arrive.
One day in the early part of September, the squire asked his wife for
all the house-servants she could spare. "A few more hands will bring
home the harvest to-night," he said; "and it would be a great thing to
get it in without a drop of rain."
So the men and maids went off to the wheat-fields, as if they were going
to a frolic; and there was a happy sense of freedom, with the picnicky
dinner, and the general air of things being left to themselves about the
house. After an unusually merry lunch, Julius proposed a walk to the
harvest-field, and Sophia and Charlotte eagerly agreed to it.
It was a joy to be out of doors under such a sky. The intense,
repressing greens of summer were now subdued and shaded. The air was
subtle and fragrant. Amber rays shone through the boughs. The hills were
clothed in purple. An exquisite, impalpable haze idealized all nature.
Right and left the reapers swept their sharp sickles through the ripe
wheat. The women went after them, binding the sheaves, and singing among
the yellow swaths shrill, wild songs, full of simple modulations.
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