CHAPTER III. ELLEN'S DIARY.-CONTINUED. “JULY 26th.—I confess I feel uneasy at the prolonged absence of Lord Deloraine. Sanguine as I am that he will forgive our hasty marriage, I could wish that this trial of his paternal affection was past. The pride of the English aristocracy is great; and what noble house is there that would not have welcomed my Harry into its circle? I have not-I could not-cherish a doubt of my husband's love for me; but he says that prudence requires our marriage should be kept secret till Lord Deloraine's return, and I cannot but feel anxious for the moment to arrive, in which we may fearlessly proclaim it to the world. Sometimes I wish that Harry would risk his father's displeasure, and inform him of his marriage without further delay. But this is a selfish desire on my part; ought I to murmur at a little procrastination, when precipitancy might be dangerous to his interests ? 66 July 27th.-Several letters came for Harry this morning. I was in hopes one might be from his father, and asked if Lord Deloraine had written? It is impossible the question could have displeased Harry, but he only uttered a simple negative by way of reply, and was silent the whole of breakfast time. No doubt he feels the same lively anxiety as myself; but how I wish he would confide it to me! In the evening, he recovered his spirits; made me sing some of his favourite songs to him, as we sat by moonlight in the grounds, and passionately embraced me as he declared I was the only woman he could ever love. 66 July 29th.-My husband is again evidently ill-at-ease to-day; what is the cause? Why will he not tell it me? Oh, he cannot doubt my affection, or that there is any sacrifice which I would not make for his sake! We rode out as usual; I sang him his favourite songs, but he declined to take a part in them, and seemed anxiously thinking on something which absorbed his whole attention. It is evident that the letters which he received yesterday have greatly annoyed him in some way, but what was the nature of their contents I cannot tell. Surely to-morrow he will make the cause of his annoyance known. to me: is it not the dearest prerogative of a wife to share her husband's sorrows, as well as participate in his happiness? 66 July 30th.-Harry was in his usual buoyant spirits to-day, and appeared to have forgotten his yesterday's annoyance. We rode along the shore for some miles, the sea reflecting a thousand tints from the crimson and golden clouds of the evening sky, and studded with the white sails of the fishing-boats that were leaving harbour for their nightly cruise. I found myself forgetting my fears of yesterday in the beauty of the scene and hour, which forcibly recalled the first evening we spent here; and my spirits became so buoyant that Harry could not have detected a shade of pensiveness in my conversation. "July 31st.-Finished reading the play of King Lear this morning, in company with my husband. Surely the most tragic page of human woe that ever was written! Even the despair of Hamlet cannot equal in my eyes the desolation of the parent's heart, when he says 'Thou think'st too much that this contentious storm Invades us to the skin; so 'tis to thee. But where the greater malady is first, The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear, But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea, Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth; when the mind's free Is't not as if this mouth should tear this hand But I will punish home; In such a night To shut me out!-pour on, I will endure, What a profound knowledge of the human heart is here there is not a passage in all the play which shows it more than Lear's transition from despair to madness. The very fools of Shakespeare have a certain wisdom curiously tempered with their disordered intellects. But the one who figures so conspicuously in "Lear" is not a fool in the ordinary sense of the word— he is the faithful servitor disguising stern words of truth and bitter warning in the phraseology of a court-jester, shrouding wisdom in a jest, and concealing affection for his forlorn old master in a hairbrained quibble. How wondrously versatile was the intellect which could write such a passage, yet revel at will in the glittering fantastic fancies of a Midsummer Night's Dream!' 6 "August 2nd.-To-day has renewed my fears. No; I cannot bring myself to write them on the pages which have chronicled such happiness. "August 3rd.-Is it fancy? Have my fears deceived me, or are they indeed too true? Alas! to-day again I ask myself the question, yet shrink from the answer. Oh, no! he cannot, Something has vexed will not alter towards me! him.-Are we not all alike imperfect in our tempers and dispositions? "After all, it may be my fault. I am too exacting, too exigeante - all my thoughts and feelings find in him their centre; and men, besides domestic cares, have so many other calls on their attention! But it is four o'clock; he will return soon, and this weary morning will have passed away. I will bathe my eyes and dress-he shall not perceive any thing has affected me. 66 August 4th.-How happy was last evening; how vividly did it recall to my mind the first blissful month of our sojourn here, and yet it is only a few days since that I have had these painful misgivings. But all must be well again after last night. Let me dwell on the particulars.—It was somewhat later than I expected when he came in, looking so gay and animated, called me 'his Ellen,' embraced me-in one word, was himself again! Then, after playfully trying to make VOL. II. C |