As he had stated, Mr. Incledon expected nothing from
the interview with Mr. Fantish; and his visit had been
prompted solely by the feeling that it was his duty to do
something of this description, before speaking to his
cousin again upon the subject.

Perhaps the impression made upon Mr. Fantish was as
great as possibly could have been made under the circumstances,
by his adversary; and as he had himself acknowledged,
any mere remonstrance would have been received
with derision. Upon a man of high feeling, Mr. Incledon's
calm representations would have made a deep

[figure description] Page 318.[end figure description]

impression—but his adversary was not a man of this description—
he had almost extinguished any such emotion in his
bosom long ago—and this Mr. Incledon knew, and acted
as with the knowledge of.

The result of the interview was such as he expected:—
a great deal of anger, an immense hostility, and a small
portion of shame, upon his opponent's part. But this
latter would scarely lead him to abate his insulting conduct:—
and what Mr. Incledon now had before him was
the preparation of his cousin for departure.

Once this man's old nature rising up, had whispered to
him, “Take your vengeance in your own hands; strike,
and rid yourself of this scoffing persecutor.” But he had
repelled this suggestion of his anger, without considering
it further, and had said to himself, calmly, “This is not
for me—I am not the avenger:—I will do my duty.”

Perhaps some feeling of this description assailed him
as he left the house of Mr. Fantish, where he had been met
with insults such as would, a few years before, have caused
that gentleman to lose his life. But if such thoughts
really came to him, they did not linger long in his mind.
He went on repeating, calmly, to himself—“My duty is
quite plain, and every purpose will be accomplished by
Sylvia's departure—more terrible things may be prevented.”

He reached the house, and knocked, and entered.

Miss Incledon was surrounded by several gentlemen,
and was singing gaily at the piano.

Mr. Incledon bowed low, and exchanged salutations

[figure description] Page 319.[end figure description]

with the visitors; and took his part calmly in the conversation.

He remained thus, without any visible purpose, until
every gentleman had departed; and then closing the door,
took a seat opposite to his cousin.

She seemed to feel that there was something more than
a common visit intended by Mr. Incledon; and with a
vague disquiet, gazed into his collected countenance, endeavoring
to fathom its meaning, and drag up the thoughts
of her adversary—such she regarded him—buried beneath
that calmness.

But Mr. Incledon's countenance defied her most piercing
scrutiny—it betrayed nothing; and beating the carpet
impatiently with her small foot, the young lady assumed
for Mr. Incledon's benefit, the air of an irritated queen,
who was waiting to be addressed by a rebellions subject.

The comparison was not so fanciful as it may seem.
As we have said, Miss Incledon was a woman of rare
and commanding beauty, and when she chose, she could
mount, as it were, her throne, and assume, to admiration,
all the royalty of a queen. She had not that delicate and
tender loveliness which takes the heart captive, and
“lends the knee desire to kneel,” as to something pure
and beautiful, and more closely allied to things heavenly,
than anything else on earth, except it be childhood, which
such loveliness resembled—Miss Incledon had not this
beauty, which Mr. Sansoney's friend, Aurelia, certainly
possessed in a degree: but still she was a young lady of
striking beauty, and her brilliant eyes, and cheeks, and

[figure description] Page 320.[end figure description]

lips, and the graceful outlines of her splendid figure, gave
her undeniable claims to admiration.

As she sat now opposite to Mr. Incledon, she was
evidently conscious of the possession of this advantage,
and her beautiful head was thrown back haughtily. With
one hand she fixed a bracelet on her dazzling white arm—
and having fixed it to her satisfaction, smoothed down
the folds of her rich silk morning dress, which swept with
its changeable sheen, the carpet at her feet.

Mr. Incledon gazed at her for a moment, and an
expression almost of sadness passed over his brow, and
dimmed his eyes. All the sensibility of his nature was
aroused within him by the unfortunate and deplorable
array of circumstances which placed him thus in hostility
to a woman whom he had loved. But there was his duty,
as he understood it, and his face very soon grew calm
again.

“Silvia,” he said, calmly: “I have just been to see
Mr. Fantish.”

The young woman could not repress a slight start, and
a faint tinge of color in her cheeks.

“Mr. Fantish!” she said, with an affection of coldness,
which was belied by the eager expression of her dark eyes.

“Yes,” said her visitor: “I have been with that gentleman
for an hour nearly.”

“Well, sir!”

And by a powerful effort she drove back the rebellious
blood to her heart, and gave him look for look, and
braced her resolution for the struggle.

Mr. Incledon, however, did not seem to feel that he

[figure description] Page 321.[end figure description]

was called upon to gather any strength of this description
for himself. On the contrary, his eye and voice were
quite as calm and soft as ever when he spoke, and he
exhibited no emotion of any description.

“I was led to call upon Mr. Fantish,” he continued:
“by a recurrence of the reports which caused me so much
grief on your account; and which I had supposed Mr.
Fantish would not permit to occur again. Of these base
jests at your expense, Silvia, I will not speak. It is
enough to say that in the exercise of my discretion, based
upon my promise to your father, it seemed proper to me
that I should call on Mr. Fantish.”

Again the blood came to her cheek, and she said,
bitterly:

“Well, sir—I suppose you are my guardian, and that
I am a child to be directed and regulated. I am not
surprised!”

“You should not be,” he returned; “and I regret
deeply that you should regard what I have done, Silvia,
as an impertinence, and an insult. Do not deny it,
Silvia—that would be useless: your eyes speak.”

“I do not deny it, sir!” she said, carried away by her
anger.

He only bowed, and then said:

“Mr. Fantish and myself discussed at length the subject
of these reports, and the interview was far from being
a very friendly one—”

“As I suppose, sir!”

“Your supposition, Silvia, is quite correct. Indeed
how could we speak as friends?”

[figure description] Page 322.[end figure description]

“I can understand why you could not, sir! Mr. Fantish
is a friend of mine.”

“How unjust you are.”

“Unjust!”

“Yes—terribly. It is a bitter injustice to thus hurl in
my teeth, Silvia, such a charge as this—that I am your
enemy.”

“Are you not, sir?”

“Oh, no: a thousand times, no!”

“I do not like such friends, sir.”

He looked at her cold and disdainful countenance for
some moments and an expression of softness and pity
came to his calm face, and he sighed audibly.

“Such friends?” he said; “you do not like such
friends, Silvia? what have I done to make you hate me?”

She did not deny the feeling imputed to her by look or
word, but said, angrily, and with a flushed countenance.

“I will tell you, sir, what you have done! You have
placed yourself before me, sir, at every turn—you have
chosen to regard the commonplace speech made by my
father, when I left home, as an authority to watch, and
spy out, and misconstrue all my movements! You have
treated me—a grown woman—as if I were a baby! and
have affected through all this, the greatest magnanimity
and nobleness forsooth! and talked about your duty,
making that your apology for your insufferable persecution!”

The flushed face and burning eyes were turned full
upon him, and the young woman's hands trembled with
anger as she extended them in the heat of speaking,

[figure description] Page 323.[end figure description]

toward him whom she addressed. Her voice was full of
insult and hostility—her white teeth for a moment closed;
and her eyes glared as only those of a woman thoroughly
aroused, can.

But he remained calm. The sad expression deepened:
and his voice was softer and more pitying than ever when
he said:

“Insufferable persecution?” Do you, then, regard my
brotherly regard and solicitude for your welfare, Silvia,
as an insufferable persecution?”

“Yes, sir, I do!” she said, “I do! Your brotherly
regard and solicitude, as you are pleasad to call it, sir, is
a very convenient sentiment, and adapts itself without difficulty
to any action you perform in relation to myself.
Perhaps, it would be better to say—if I am forced to
speak, sir,—that your `regard' for me was something
more than `brotherly'—and that `solicitude' you speak of
caused by something else than duty!”

“Something else?” he said, softly—“by what else,
Silvia?”

“By jealousy, sir! You affect to pity me, and you will
end by making me hate you, sir!” said the young woman,
with burning cheeks, and carried away by rage, at what
she considered an exhibition of contempt upon her visitor's
part: you affect to pity me! and you reply to my
defence of myself against your calumnies, by an affectation
of pity,' and—with an injured air—and then you drawl
out `Silvia,' to make me think you are not moved! Be
good enough, sir, added the young woman, completely
aroused, and trying to affect haughtiness; be good enough

[figure description] Page 324.[end figure description]

to call me by my proper name—Miss Incledon! I am not
aware of any right you have to address me as you do!”

“I will not, if it is disagreeable to you—”

“It is, sir!”

He bowed his head.

It is, and you will oblige me, sir, by ceasing to address
me thus from this time forth!”

He bowed again: the old expression of softness and
pity had never left his face for a moment.

“It is a little thing to ask,” he said, “I only grieve to
think that, trifle as it is, however, it is prompted by a sentiment
of hostility which I deeply lament, but cannot help.
I have only striven to do my duty.”

“Duty! there it is again, sir—your duty!”

“Oh, yes!”

“And this prompted, doubtless, that fine `brotherly
solicitude' you spoke of, sir!”

“Indeed, it did!”

The beautiful lip curled, and she said, with a sneer,
which was painful to see.

“I repeat, sir, that your solicitude was anything but
`brotherly!' You condescended to place your affection
upon my humble self; and when I chose to exercise my right
as a free woman, to prefer another—you became very solicitious
all at once about my welfare—and your `brotherly
solicitude' assumed the shape of hostility to Mr. Fantish.

“Jealousy! oh, Silvia! Silvia!—pardon me! You
say again that I have acted as I have done from jealousy
of Mr. Fantish? What a deep injustice.”

“Yes, I do, sir! I assert it plainly, as you drive me

[figure description] Page 325.[end figure description]

to it! I assert that your `uneasiness' as you were pleased
to call it, in a former interview—your uneasiness about
me, I say, commenced, just when you found that your
addresses were becoming disagreeable—when I preferred,
you thought, another person. You came one morning,
sir, if you will deign to recollect, and, because I did not
leave my hand in your own, as we sat there upon the
sofa!—because I drew away the tress of my hair which
you curled around your finger!—because I said that our
cousinly familiarity must not be gone on with—because I
told you that, sir, you must suddenly assume that I am in
a dangerous position: that Mr. Fantish is a dishonorable
man, and that your lordship must watch over your bondwoman
and preserve her from your rival.”

Pausing, overwhelmed with bitter and scornful passion,
the young woman panted, and trembled, and grew by turns
pale and crimson with her rage.

Every word she uttered pierced his heart; and his most
cruel enemy could not have devised a punishment more
bitter to his high and noble nature. The bitter words
struck all his pride, and the recollection of his pure and
gentle love. That he should be charged with acting from
a base and miserable selfishness, instead of from a large
and noble sense of duty!—that he should be accused of
such hypocrisy, as he drew back from, in his very imagination,
with a shudder!—that, lastly, the woman whom
he had regarded as a tender and lovely girl, and so commenced
loving purely and deeply, should thus cast in his
teeth, with bitter scorn, the scenes in which he had exhibited
his innocent fondness! Surely—he thought with a

[figure description] Page 326.[end figure description]

grief and suffering too deep for words—surely, the hand
that launched this bitterly poisoned arrow, must be cruel
indeed!

Only a flitting shadow, however, betrayed the passage
of such thoughts as these, through Mr. Incledon's heart.
With that strength of control, which he had struggled for
through years, and at last attained, he forcibly suppressed
any exhibition of his emotion, and regarded the young
woman, when she concluded her bitter speech, with a calm
softness, even more marked than before.

“Silvia!” he said, gently, “and I must ask you to pardon
me for thus addressing you—for I cannot school myself
so soon to that hostility and coldness, which you say
we have adopted toward each other—Silvia, the words
you have just uttered, would, perhaps, arouse in me some
of that ill-temper, which is my besetting sin, if I did not
feel convinced that these expressions are the fruits of momentary
irritation—an irritation I have had the bad fortune,
I am afraid, to cause; and which I lament deeply—
from the bottom of my heart. I cannot bring myself to
think that in your cooler moments you would taunt me
thus with having experienced for you an affection, pure
and sincere—and scoff at me for the innocent exhibition
of my feeling. You say, that because one day you drew
back from my customary familiarity—that because you
drew away the hand you gave me always—disengaged the
tress I touched—and warned me that you could not suffer
me to approach you thus familiarly again—you say that
in consequence of this, I became jealous; that I watched
your movements—that I acted the spy to find out who had

[figure description] Page 327.[end figure description]

supplanted me; and finding that your preference was
given to Mr. Fantish, recollected suddenly your father's
charge to me—and used that charge to gain an advantage
over one I looked on as my rival! This you accuse me of;
and I should be astonished at the ingenuity of your accusation,
if it did not cause me so much pain. Your lip
curls, Silvia, and you think my tone of calmness proves
that I am acting. Oh, I am not, Silvia! You are not
able even to conceive the pain you cause me by these cruel
and unjust words. A thousand times unjust!—a thousand
times more cruel than I deserve! In the presence of my
God, Silvia, to whom I owe allegiance, and who reads the
secrets of all hearts—before God and man, I declare that
this is bitterly unjust! That I loved you then I do not
deny—that your affection was the dream and desire of my
whole being I will not deny—that the repulse you gave
me, caused me many hours of suffering and melancholy,
I will not conceal. But never, on my honor, as a gentleman!
by my faith as a Christian gentleman, never did I
follow you, or watch your movements, or endeavor to supplant
the man who took my place, or thwart you! Had
Mr. Fantish been an honorable man, he never even would
have known that the poor gentleman he passed coming
out sorrowfully, as he entered with a smile, had been made
miserable by his appearance! He never would have
known that he had made me suffer—never! I would
have yielded you to an honorable gentleman, without a
word, and gone away and left you to your joy and happiness!
But, Silvia, I am forced to say again—to repeat
always, for the fact is my sole vindication—I am forced

[figure description] Page 328.[end figure description]

again to say that Mr. Fantish is not an honorable man!
that he looks upon women as his playthings! that he is
utterly incapable of pure affection,—and that what he has
done has proved the truth of this a thousand times!”

Mr. Incledon's calm face grew dark as he spoke, but he
suppressed this evidence of feeling quickly, and went on,
without regarding the looks of burning anger which the
young lady cast upon him.

“And now, Silvia,” he said, “I have brought my vindication
to the time, when driven by my duty—by my
promise, sacredly given to your father—I found myself
compelled to take up a position of hostility to this
gentleman. I heard everywhere that he was in the habit
of making speeches about yourself which no honorable
man could bring his lips to utter! I heard in the street,
at entertainments, in my evening visits to my friends,
those stories which a certain class of persons spend their
lives in whispering through society, and you were the
heroine of them! I heard that Mr. Fantish made your
love for him the subject of his gayest and most brilliant
jests! I heard, that in the circle which he frequents, the
utterance of your name had become the signal for a burst
of laughter! I heard that your very entrance into party
rooms, would soon become the occasion of a suppressed
titter! and that every person would deride you, and say
of you, further, what my lips will not utter—what my
brain cannot conceive, but draws back from, sick and
incredulous, and scornful! Do you understand now! Do
you comprehend the state of things I was forced to
measure, coolly and calmly, with fiery eyes—to brace my

[figure description] Page 329.[end figure description]

strength, collect all my coolness to grapple with! Do
you see now that some other sentiment than jealousy
aroused my fear and anger, and what you have styled my
persecution, my impertinence! If you do not see this—
if you still close your eyes—you are stone blind, or wilfully
blind—and I can only tell you, that you walk upon
a slumbering volcano!”

The suppressed excitement with which Mr. Incledon
uttered these words, was more impressive than the most
passionate outburst; and for a moment the young lady's
eye fell before his fixed look—for an instant her lips grew
pale; and she pressed her hand upon her heart as though
she were about to faint.

Had this suppression lasted a few moments longer, Mr.
Incledon would have lost his self-possession—melted from
his stern feeling—and besought her to forget his words,
the painful facts they dealt with—everything but her old
country home, and those who loved her—and so come
with him—and pardon anything in his words which had
offended her—and going to her parents, never look upon
his face again, if it was painful to her. All his tenderness
of heart was aroused by the position he sustained—
a position to which a vortex of fate had hurled him without
any exercise of will on his part—a position of hostility
to, and contest with a woman. Convinced as he
was, that every step he had taken was forced on him by
uncompromising duty—that he could not have done differently—
that his honor, and his cousin's, both called out
for this—nothing but this—still his chivalry of gentleman
made him tremble at the thought of using even what

[figure description] Page 330.[end figure description]

resembled force toward a woman:—and if at that moment
Miss Incledon had shed a single tear; if the least tremor
in her voice had shown that she was overcome by the
terrible array of facts—Mr. Incledon would have lost his
calmness wholly—begged for her forgiveness, and besought
her, on his knees, if necessary, to go with him,
home to her parents, from the town in which she had experienced
such suffering!

Mr. Incledon did not know his cousin. Instead of
raising her eyes in tears, she erected her head haughtily,
and looked at him with a fire which would speedily have
dried up any moisture in her brilliant eyes. Her manner
was more defiant than ever—her beautiful lip curled with
more bitter scorn—she resembled nothing so much as a
beautiful tigress, ready to spring upon her enemy.

“Well, sir,” she said: and her words were almost exactly
those of Mr. Fantish an hour before. “Well, sir!
if you have finished your fine discourse upon propriety,
perhaps you will deign to inform me of the purpose of
this visit!”

He gazed at her with an expression impossible to describe,
and was silent for some minutes. Then gradually,
and, as it were, one by one, all these complicated emotions
disappeared, and his perfect calmness came back—very
soon, even his old softness. Perhaps no day in his whole
life presented so fine an exhibition of this man's high dignity
and delicacy of temperament, as the few moments in
which this change took place.

When he spoke it was with as much calmness and gentleness,
as if he had not been insulted, outraged, scoffed

p506-338 [figure description] Page 331.[end figure description]

at;—as if he had been taking part in a pleasant and
agreeable conversation with a cherished friend.”