Chapter III

Kind messages, that pass from land to land;
Kind letters, that betray the heart’s deep history,
In which we feel the pressure of a hand--
One touch of fire,--and all the rest is mystery!
LONGFELLOW.

The morning of the new year is dawning as brightly as winter morning may, and Christian is up again among her household, preparing for the great event of the day. Mary and Robert are still employed in their personal adornments, and James, waiting for his graver sister, watches the door in terror for their entry; but Christian at last leads the bridegroom away, and bids the merry youthful couple follow, and James will not forget, for many a year of the new life on which he is about to enter, the gentle sisterly counsel which he now receives: how unselfish, how generous she is! His future wife may be a sister in name, but she can never be so in spirit; Christian knows that well, but how sweetly she speaks of her, how warmly she encourages her brother’s affection, how gently she leads his thoughts to his new duties, and urges upon him, in admonitory yet tender kindness, their lasting obligation. His home will be a happy one, if he becomes what Christian wishes and presses him to be.

Mr. Melville fancies that there could not, by any chance, be a better arrangement than James’s marriage with Elizabeth Rutherford, the only daughter of his wealthy partner; so natural at once, and business-like, for James of course, will just step into the place vacated by his worthy seniors, when their time comes to depart from Exchange and counting-house: a most excellent arrangement; Elizabeth is a pretty girl too, a little gay perhaps, but time will remedy and quiet that. Christian said some foolish thing about the Rutherfords being vain worldly people, but Christian always spoke foolishly on such subjects. There could not have been a better arrangement, and armed with this deliverance of paternal wisdom, James had been a successful wooer and suitor, and gay Elizabeth Rutherford will be Christian’s sister to-day.

We leave the wedding, with all its vows, and pomps, and ceremony, to the imagination of the gentle reader. It will suffice to say, that James was married, and that all went off as well and as merrily as is usually the case. But it is now the new year’s night and Christian is at home, and there, lying on her own table, at her own corner of the cheerful fireside, lies a prize; “a letter from Halbert!” Christian has thrown herself into a chair, and is busy unfolding the precious document, and little Mary’s bright eyes are sparkling over her shoulder; but we must not describe Halbert’s epistle, we shall rather give it _in extenso_.

“MY DEAR CHRISTIAN,

“I have been congratulating myself, that amidst all your
multitudinous avocations at this eventful time, the reading of my
periodical epistle will be some relief to you, and in benevolent
consideration of your overwhelming cares, intend--in spite of your
late reproof on my levity, which natheless, dear Christian, is not
levity, but _fun_--to fill this, at present unsullied sheet, with
as much nonsense as possible. However, I will so far subdue my
propensities, as to make my second sentence--concerning, as it
does, so very important an event in the family--a serious enough
one. I have a feeling about this marriage of James’s which I can
hardly explain, even to myself; I suppose, because it is the first
break in the family, the first introduction of change; and it seems
so extraordinary a thing at first, that we, who have lived all our
lives together, should be able to form connections nearer and
dearer with others, than those which exist among ourselves. I could
almost be glad, Christian, that _your_ loss--forgive me for
speaking of it--will preserve you to us all; and James’s choice too
rather surprises me! I was not wont to have a very high idea of
Elizabeth Rutherford’s qualities; I hope, however, for James’s
sake, that I have been greatly mistaken: I have written him a
congratulatory letter. I must confess to you though, that my
congratulations would have been much more cordial, had our new
sister-in-law come nearer my ideal. You know that I have a very
high standard.

“We are enjoying our moment of breathing time very much--we
students--in our classical and poetical retreats in the attics of
Edinburgh, putting the stores of mental _plenishing_, which have
been accumulating on our hands or lying in disorder in our heads
for the past months, into their fitting places and order, and
preparing the still unfurnished apartments for the reception of
more. I suppose you will be thinking, that in one suite at least of
these same empty inner rooms, there will be a vast quantity of
clearing out required, before the formerly unmolested heterogeneous
literary rubbish give place to the fair array of philosophical and
theological lore, which must needs supplant it--and so there is. I
do assure you, that at this present moment, the clearing out and
scouring goes on vigorously. You should see how I turn my old
friends out of doors to make way for the flowing full-robed dignity
of their stately successors. The toil of study has, however, so
much real pleasure mixed with it, after the first drudgery is over,
that I don’t long very anxiously for its conclusion, though that is
drawing near very rapidly. I suppose, if I am spared, I shall be
ready to enter upon the work, to which we have so often looked
forward, in little more than eighteen months. Well, time is not
wont to be a laggard, and I hope when he runs round that length, he
will find me better prepared for the duties and labours of my high
vocation than I am now. Do you know, Christian, I have had lately a
kind of fearful feeling, whenever I think of the future; what is
the cause I cannot tell, unless it be one of those presentiments
that sometimes--at least so we have heard--overshadow the minds of
people who are, or who are about to be, exposed to danger. I am
not, you know, in the least; nevertheless, I have not the same
pleasure in looking forward that I used to have. I wish you would
try and explain this enigma for me.

“I told you lately, you will remember, that I had made a very
agreeable acquaintance, in a Mr. Walter Forsyth. I like him better
the more I see of him, for he has great natural ability and
extraordinary cultivation, united to the most captivating manners.
I know you are very impassive to our masculine attractions, yet I
hardly think, Christian, you could help being much pleased with
him. He is a good deal older than I am, and is moreover of
considerably higher station in the world than a student, and
therefore I feel his attention to me the more gratifying. I have
been at his house several times, and have met a good many of our
Edinburgh _savans_ there: none of them of the kind though that you
would expect me to be associating with; for Forsyth’s friends are
not exactly of the same character as my future position would
require mine to be. Don’t think from this that I have got into bad
company--just the reverse, I assure you, Christian--they are almost
all very accomplished agreeable men, and I like them exceedingly.
Forsyth is very liberal in his ways of thinking, perhaps you might
think too much so; but he has mixed much with the world, and
travelled a great deal, and so has come to look upon all kinds of
opinions with indulgence, however much they may differ from his
own: altogether, I cannot sum up his good qualities better than by
saying, that he is a most fascinating man. I am afraid you will
think I am getting very suddenly attached to my friend, but I feel
quite sure he deserves it.

“I charge you to remember me, with all fraternal kindness, to our
new sister-in-law. I suppose I shall have to beg pardon personally
for various bygone affrays, of which I was the provoker long ago,
‘when we were bairns.’ Tell Mary I am very much afraid she will be
following James’s example, and that she must positively let me be
first, and for yourself, dear Christian, believe me always

“Your very affectionate brother,

“HALBERT MELVILLE.”

The first night of the year fell on a happy household. The senior of all, its head, satisfied and self-complacent; his grave and gentle daughter, full of such hopeful and pleasant thoughts as stifled the strange misgivings and forebodings that had sprung up within her when she had read the character of that much esteemed friend, who already seemed to have secured so large a portion of her brother’s affection--in Halbert’s letter; and the younger pair, as became the evening of so great a holiday, tired out with their rejoicing. The evening closed cheerily around them, and threw its slumberous curtain about every separate resting-place, as though it had a charge over them in their peaceful sleep, and predicted many a sweet awakening and many a prosperous day.

CHRISTIAN MELVILLE.

EPOCH II.

Behold the tempter!--to the expectant air
The hoarse-voiced wind whispers its coming dread,
And ancient Ocean from his mighty head
Shakes back the foaming tangles of his hair,
Gathering his strength that giant power to dare,
That chafes to fury all his thousand waves,
And digs in his deep sand unlooked for graves,
Whelming the hapless barks that voyage there.
Fierce is the rage of elemental strife;
Yet who may tell how far exceeds that war
That rends the inner seat of mental life,
Veils the soul’s sky--shuts out each guiding star.
The fiercest tempest raging o’er the sea,
But pictures what the might of mental storms may be.