CHAPTER XXI. I RETURN HOME TO MY FAMILY. -MY FEELINGS WHEN I GET THERE.-PLEASURES OF SECLUSION. Glad that you thus continue your resolve, SHAKSPEARE.-Taming of the Shrew. I HAD now to prepare for very different scenes. My father, whom I have not mentioned all this time, be cause engaged in the business which brought him to York, had left me entirely to myself, and, now the grand jury were dismissed, impatient to get home, he scolded me for staying so long with Mr. Granville. We were soon on horseback, and I own I made but a sorry companion to my excellent parent. I was absent, silent, heavy, and dull, and listened but drowsily to his observations upon the agriculture of the country. I was, indeed, so lost and inattentive, or, when I did attend, so ignorant, that he good-naturedly gave up the attempt to engage me, saying, as a parting hit, "Ah! Hugh, thou may'st be a scholar, God bless thee, but thou wilt never make a farmer." It was the last thing I desired to make, and indeed felt at the reproach much the same sort of disdain which Tom the footman, in the "Conscious Lovers," does at the idea of a man in love being sent for a teakettle. The good Mr. De Clifford, however, seeing he could make nothing of me, fell at last into better company-his own thoughts. He was absorbed by what might be going on at home, or what might be the best course of crops for the soil of the West Riding, and we jogged on, to my great satisfaction, in silence. How my mind was employed, may perhaps be guessed. On arriving at home, I was for some time occupied by the affectionate offices of my mother, and the jollity of my brothers, the last a stronger contrast than ever with my own reserved disposition, now augmented twenty-fold. They, however, did not insist upon my having the same spirits as themselves; which was all I wanted; and though they sometimes laughed at "t' young doctor," for not knowing barley from wheat before it was in ear, upon the whole they paid me due respect, particularly when they found me, as they sometimes did, with a Greek folio before me. Upon these occasions they would ask how soon I should put on petticoats and be in pulpit. It may be supposed that the Hall-house was not unvisited, and there also kindness awaited me; but the ladies, though they were not sorry to have a dashing Oxford man (for so they called me till they knew better) among their followers, were less than ever engaging in my eyes. Their manners were, like their dress, flaunting and gaudy, and, by contrast, only re minded me the more of that graceful repose and simple elegance which, with all her cheerfulness, characterized the being who still engrossed me. They were animated and lively too, if being loud was to be animated, or being boisterous, lively. But this also, from the same contrast, produced rather disgust than admiration. Who ever, indeed, united so much gen. tleness and intelligence, with so much animation, as Bertha ? Alas! how was I spoiled, and how much better, I thought, if, like my brothers, I could have rejoiced if the Misses Goff honoured me with a smile. This, however, was of little consequence, and I only mention it to account for the devotion which, more than ever, I gave to solitude. My lone walks were often protracted till midnight; I saw every bird to bed, and was lulled to sleep in my own, only by the faroff tinkling of the sheep bell. Often, indeed, without sleeping, I would lie in a melancholy, but far from unpleasing, reverie, gazing through the casement, purposely left open, to catch the perfume of the honeysuckle which peered in at the window— "While over head the moon Sat arbitress, and nearer to the earth These, after all, and spite of my hopeless thraldom, were charming moments, nor did I even wish to exchange them for liberty. Thus I was a practical illustration of that exciting, but what most would call unnatural, fancy expressed by the poet : "There's nought in this life sweet, If men were wise to see't, But only melancholy : Oh! sweetest melancholy !" The melancholy of a lover, however, is often very different from that which is usually designated by the word. Though hopeless, I was not miserable, and I clung to the comment Granville had made upon my situation, that it was not that of a scorned or rejected lover. With the usual elasticity of youth, I therefore encouraged myself to believe that it was only the disparity of our lots which made Bertha use the language she did, when she said that to suppose love between us was slanderous as well as impertinent. I therefore took no pains to perform my promise to Granville, to redeem myself; nay, I am afraid I was rather proud (I certainly was not ashamed) of my chains, and though annoyed when forced into company, I did any thing but what my brothers (and my father too) thought I did—mope when alone. Thus I might say with Gray, mine was rather a leuchocholy than a melancholy. Certainly, I might say, my dreams of love were like his low spirits, “ true and faithful companions; they got up with me, went to bed with me, made journeys and returns as I did, nay, and paid visits, and would even affect to be jocose, and force a laugh with me; but most commonly we sat alone together, and were the prettiest company in the world.” * In this love of being alone I was not a little assisted by my mother, with whom I was always a * Gray to West. favourite, because she expected great things from my. attachment to study: she accordingly gave, or procured me, full and absolute dominion over a little retired closet in the gable of the house, lighted only by a glazed door, which opened upon a garden—if a court of some thirty feet square, filled with sweet herbs, and a few of the common flowers, convolvulus, and nasturtium (dahlias were not then known)—if this could be called a garden. However, there was a picturesque old wall, in which was a quaint old dial, much to my taste, and an ample spreading lime-tree, which resounded with the hum of a thousand bees, and was the haunt of blackbirds, and sometimes of a squirrel. It had, therefore, an air of seclusion and companionship at the same time; and as the only entrance to it was through the closet, which I considered as mine, I had it all to myself; which was exactly what I wished. My father thought I was absorbed in study, which was partly true, and left me alone; and thus, night and day, I remained in undisturbed possession of my mind, which was all I wanted; and that mind, while thus allowed to enjoy itself, became to me a more valuable possession than ever I knew it before. My hermitage was delightful, for it gave me all the freedom of thought and action which solitude confers, without its drawback, a sense of uncomfortable loneliAll was quiet within, and no fear of interruption from without, unless I chose it,-when the cheerful sights and sounds of a busy farm made a pleasing diversion. ness. |