Lady Emily, with very ordinary intellect, and paltry religious opinions, yet because she was good herself, and religious--could, in the reproduction of the highest kind of music, greatly surpass the spirited, intellectual musician, whose voice was as superior to hers as a nightingale's to a sparrow's, and whose knowledge of music and musical power generally, surpassed hers beyond all comparison.
It must be allowed for Euphra, that she seemed to have gained some perception of the fact. Perhaps she had seen signs of emotion in Hugh's face, which he had shaded with his hand as Lady Emily sang;or perhaps the singing produced in her a feeling which she had not had when singing herself. All I know is, that the same night--while Hugh was walking up and down his room, meditating on this defect of Euphra's, and yet feeling that if she could sing only devil's music, he must love her--a tap came to the door which made him start with the suggestion of the former mysterious noises of a similar kind;that he sprang to the door; and that, instead of looking out on a vacant corridor, as he all but anticipated, he saw Euphra standing there in the dark--who said in a whisper:
"Ah! you do not love me any longer, because Lady Emily can sing psalms better than I can!"There was both pathos and spite in the speech.
"Come in, Euphra."
"No. I am afraid I have been very naughty in coming here at all.""Do come in. I want you to tell me something about Funkelstein.""What do you want to know about him? I suppose you are jealous of him. Ah! you men can both be jealous and make jealous at the same moment." A little broken sigh followed. Hugh answered:
"I only want to know what he is."
"Oh! some twentieth cousin of mine."
"Mr. Arnold does not know that?"
"Oh dear! no. It is so far off I can't count it, In fact I doubt it altogether. It must date centuries back.""His intimacy, then, is not to be accounted for by his relationship?""Ah! ah! I thought so. Jealous of the poor count!""Count?"
"Oh dear! what does it matter? He doesn't like to be called Count, because all foreigners are counts or barons, or something equally distinguished. I oughtn't to have let it out.""Never mind. Tell me something about him."
"He is a Bohemian. I met him first, some years ago, on the continent.""Then that was not your first meeting--at Sir Edward Laston's?""No."
"How candid she is!" thought Hugh.
"He calls me his cousin; but if he be mine, he is yet more Mr. Arnold's. But he does not want it mentioned yet. I am sure I don't know why.""Is he in love with you?"
"How can I tell?" she answered archly. "By his being very jealous?
Is that the way to know whether a man is in love with one? But if he is in love with me, it does not follow that I am in love with him--does it? Confess. Am I not very good to answer all your impertinent downright questions? They are as point blank as the church-catechism;--mind, I don't say as rude.--How can I be in love with two at--a--?"She seemed to cheek herself. But Hugh had heard enough--as she had intended he should. She turned instantly, and sped--surrounded by the "low melodious thunder" of her silken garments--to her own door, where she vanished noiselessly.
"What care I for oratorios?" said Hugh to himself, as he put the light out, towards morning.
Where was all this to end? What goal had Hugh set himself? Could he not go away, and achieve renown in one of many ways, and return fit, in the eyes of the world, to claim the hand of Miss Cameron?
But would he marry her if he could? He would not answer the question. He closed the ears of his heart to it, and tried to go to sleep. He slept, and dreamed of Margaret in the storm.
A few days passed without anything occurring sufficiently marked for relation. Euphra and he seemed satisfied without meeting in private. Perhaps both were afraid of carrying it too far; at least, too far to keep clear of the risk of discovery, seeing that danger was at present greater than usual. Mr. Arnold continued to be thoroughly attentive to his guests, and became more and more devoted to Lady Emily. There was no saying where it might end; for he was not an old man yet, and Lady Emily appeared to have no special admirers. Arnstead was such an abode, and surrounded with such an estate, as few even of the nobility could call their own. And a reminiscence of his first wife seemed to haunt all Mr. Arnold's contemplations of Lady Emily, and all his attentions to her. These were delicate in the extreme, evidently bringing out the best life that yet remained in a heart that was almost a fossil. Hugh made some fresh efforts to do his duty by Harry, and so far succeeded, that at least the boy made some progress--evident enough to the moderate expectations of his father. But what helped Harry as much as anything, was the motherly kindness, even tenderness, of good Mrs. Elton, who often had him to sit with her in her own room. To her he generally fled for refuge, when he felt deserted and lonely.