I don't know, my dear, – I don't know what you would call it; I am not a philosopher; but he is very fond of ferns himself. He is a very fine man. He is a great deal too good to go and throw himself away."
"Is that what he is going to do?"
"Why yes, my dear; that is what I should call it. It is a great deal more than that. I never can remember the place; but it is the most dreadful place, I do suppose, that ever was heard of. I never heard of such a place. They do every horrible thing there – my dear, the accounts make your blood creep. I think Mr. Rhys is a great deal too valuable a man to be lost there, among such a set of creatures – they are more like devils than men. And Eleanor," said Miss Broadus, looking round to see that nobody was within hearing of her communication, – "you have no idea what a pleasant man he is. I asked him to tea with Juliana and me – you know one must be kind and neighbourly at any rate – and he has no friends here; I sometimes wonder if he has any anywhere; but he came to tea, and he was as agreeable as possible. He was really excellent company, and very well behaved. I think Juliana quite fell in love with him; but I tell her it's no use; she never would go off to that dreadful place with him."
And Miss Broadus laughed a laugh of simple amusement; Miss Juliana being, though younger than herself, still very near the age of an old lady. They kept the light-hearted simplicity of young years, however, in a remarkable degree; and so had contrived to dispense with wrinkles on their fresh old faces.
"Where is that place, Miss Broadus?"
"My dear, I never can remember the name of it. They do say the country is beautiful, and the fruit, and all that; it is described to be a beautiful place, where, as Heber's hymn says, 'only man is vile.' But he is as vile as he can be, there. And I am sure Mr. Rhys would be a great loss at Wiglands. My dear, how pleasant it would be, I said to Juliana this morning, how pleasant it would be, if Mr. Rhys were only in the Church, and could help good Dr. Cairnes. 'Tisn't likely they will let him live long out there, if he goes."
"When is he going?"
"O I don't know when, my dear; he is waiting for something. And I never can remember the name of the place; if a word has many syllables I cannot keep them together in my memory; only I know the vegetables there grow to an enormous size, and as if that wasn't enough, men devour each other. It seems like an abusing the gifts of providence, don't it? But there is nothing they do not abuse. I am afraid they will abuse poor Mr. Rhys. And his boys would miss him very much, and I am sure we all should. I have got quite acquainted with him, seeing him here; and now Juliana has taken a fancy to ask him to our cottage – and I have come to quite like him. What a different looking man he is from Mr. Carlisle – now look at them talking together! – "
"Where did you learn all this, Miss Broadus? did Mr. Rhys tell you?"
"No, my dear; he never will talk about it or about himself. He lent me a pamphlet or something. – Mr. Rhys is the tallest – but Mr. Carlisle is a splendid looking man, – don't you think so, Eleanor?"
Miss Broadus's energetic whisper Eleanor thought fit to ignore, though she did not fail to note the contrast which a moment's colloquy between the two men presented. There was little in common between them; between the marked features and grave keen expression of the one face, and the cool, bright, somewhat supercilious eye and smile of the other. There was power in both faces, Eleanor thought, of different kinds; and power is attractive. Her eye was held till they parted from each other. Two very different walks in life claimed the two men; so much Eleanor could see. For some time after she was obliged to attend exclusively to that walk of life which Mr. Carlisle represented, and to look at the views he brought forward for her notice.
They were not so engrossing, however, that Eleanor entirely forgot the earlier conversation of the afternoon or the question which had troubled her. The evening had been baffling. She had not had a word with Mr. Rhys, and he had disappeared long since from the party. So had Dr. Cairnes. There was no more chance of talk upon that subject to-night; and Eleanor feeling very feeble still, thought best to cut short Mr. Carlisle's enjoyment of other subjects for the evening. She left the company, and slowly passed through the house, from room to room, to get to her own. In the course of this progress she came to the library. There, seated at one of the tables and bending over a volume, was Mr. Rhys. He jumped up as she passed through, and came forward with extended hand and a word of kindly inquiry. His "good night" was so genial, his clasp of her hand so frank and friendly, that instead of going on, Eleanor stood still.
"Are you studying?"
"Your father has kindly given me liberty to avail myself of his treasures here. My time is very scanty – I was tempted to seize the moment that offered itself. It is a very precious privilege to me, and one which I shall not abuse."
"Pray do not speak of abusing," said Eleanor; "nobody minds the books here; I am glad they are good to anybody else. – I am interrupting you."
"Not at all!" said he, bringing up a great chair for her, – "or only agreeably. Pray sit down – you are not fit to stand."
Eleanor however remained standing, and hesitating, for a moment.
"I wish you would tell me a little more about what we were talking of," she said with some effort.
"Do you feel your want of the helmet?" he said gravely.
"I feel that I haven't it," said Eleanor.
"What is it that you are conscious of wanting?"
She hesitated; it was a home question; and very unaccustomed to speak of her secret thoughts and feelings to any one, especially on religious subjects, which however had never occupied her before, Eleanor was hardly ready to answer. Yet in the tones of the question there was a certain quiet assurance and simplicity before which she yielded.
"I felt – a little while ago – when I was sick – that I was not exactly safe."
Eleanor spoke, hesitating between every few words, looking down, and falling her voice at the end. So she did not see the keen intentness of the look that was fixed upon her.
"You felt that there was something wanting between you and God?"
"I believe so."
His accent was as deliberately clear as her's was hesitating. Every word went into Eleanor's soul.
"Then you can understand now, that when one can say, joyfully, 'I know that my Redeemer liveth'; – when he is no vague abstraction, but felt to be a Redeemer;– when one can say assuredly, he is my Redeemer; I know he has bought back my soul from sin and from the punishment of sin, which is death; I feel I am forgiven; and I know he liveth – my Redeemer – and according to his promise lives to deliver me from every evil and will preserve me unto his heavenly kingdom; – do you see, now, that one who can say this has on his head the covering of an infinite protection – an infinite shelter from both danger and fear? – a helmet, placed on his head by his Lord's own hand, and of such heavenly temper that no blows can break through it."
Eleanor was a little time silent, with downcast eyes.
"You do not mean to say, that this protection is against all evil; do you? sickness and pain are evils are they not?"
"Not to him."
"Not to him?"
"No. The evil of them is gone. They can do him no harm; if they come, they will do good. He that wears this helmet has absolutely no evil to fear. All things shall work good to him. There shall no evil happen to the just. Blessed be the Lord, who only doeth wondrous things!"
Eleanor stood silenced, humbled, convinced; till she recollected she must not stand there so, and she lifted her eyes to bid good-night. Then the face she met gave a new turn to her thoughts. It was a changed face; such a light of pure joy and deep triumph shone over it, not hiding nor hindering the loving care with which those penetrating eyes were reading herself. It gave Eleanor a strange compression of heart; it told her more than his words had done; it shewed her the very reality of which he spoke. Eleanor went away overwhelmed.
"Mr. Rhys is a happy man!" she said to herself; – "happy, happy! I wish, – I wish, I were as happy as he!"
CHAPTER