Chapter XXIII

_Touch_. All your writers do consent that ipso is he; now you are not ipse, for I am he. _Well_. Which he, sir? AS YOU LIKE IT.

In due course of time the morrow brought round eleven o'clock; and the two brothers took their way, whither all the world severally were taking theirs, to Mr. Haye's house. The wedding was over and the guests were pouring in.

For some reason or other the walk was taken in grave silence, by both parties, till they were mounting the steps to the hall door.

"How do you suppose Elizabeth will like this?" Rufus whispered.

Winthrop did not say, nor indeed answer at all; and his brother's attention was caught the next minute by Mr. Herder whom they encountered in the hall.

"How do you do?" said the naturalist grasping both his young friends' hands, -- "when did you come? and how is all wiz you? I hope you are not going to be married!"

"Why, Mr. Herder?" said Rufus laughing.

"It is very perplexing, and does not satisfy nobody," said the naturalist. "So quick as a man thinks of somebody else a leetle too hard, he forgets himself altogezer; and then, he does not be sure what he is doing. Now -- dis man --"

"Isn't he sure what he has done?" said Rufus much amused.

"No, he does not know," said Mr. Herder.

"What does his daughter think of it?"

"She looks black at it. I do not know what she is thinking. I do not want to know."

"Ha! What does she say?"

"She says nozing at all; she looks black," said the naturalist shrugging his shoulders. "Don't you go to get married. You will not satisfy nobody."

"Except myself," said Rufus.

"Maybe. I do not know," said the naturalist. "A man has not no right to satisfy himself wizout he can satisfy ozer people too. I am sorry for poor Miss Elisabet'."

"I wonder how many matches would be made upon that rule!" said Rufus, as they parted and Mr. Herder joined the company within.

"They would be all matches made by other people," said Winthrop.

"And on the principle that 'to-morrow never comes' -- the world would come to an end."

So they entered the drawing-rooms.

There were many people there, and certainly for the present there were few unsatisfied faces; for the bride was lovely enough and the bridegroom of consequence enough, to make compliments to them a matter of pleasure to the giver. The room was blooming with beauty and brightness. But Miss Haye was not there; and as soon as they could withdraw from the principal group the two brothers made their way to an inner room, where she stood, holding as it were a court of her own; and an unpropitious monarch she would have looked to her courtiers had they been real ones. Her face was as lowering as Mr. Herder had described it; settled in pain and pride; though now and then a quick change would pass over it, very like the play of lightning on a distant cloud; -- fitful, sharp, and traceless. Just as Rufus and Winthrop had made their bow, and before they had time to speak, another bow claimed Elizabeth's return, and the tongue that went therewith was beforehand with theirs. The speaker was a well dressed and easy mannered man of the world; but with a very javelin of an eye, as ready for a throw as a knight's lance of old, and as careless what it met in its passage through humanity.

"You have wandered out of your sphere, Miss Elizabeth."

"What do you mean, sir?" -- was given with sufficient keenness.

"The bright constellation of beauty and happiness is in the other room. Stars set off one another."

"I shine best alone," said Elizabeth.

"You disdain the effect of commingled and reflected light?"

"Yes I do, heartily, in this case. I wish for no glory that does not belong to me."

"But does not the glory of your father and mother belong to you?" said the gentleman. He spoke with the most smooth deference of manner, that all but covered his intent; but the flush and fire started into Elizabeth's face reminding one of the volcano again. Her eye watered with pain too, and she hesitated; she was evidently not ready with an answer. Perhaps for that reason it was given with added haughtiness.

"You need not trouble yourself to reckon what does or what does not belong to me. I know my belongings, and will take care of them."

"You are satisfied with them," said the gentleman, "and willing they should stand alone?"

"I am willing they should take their chance, sir."

"I know no one who can better say that," remarked Rufus.

"With better confidence, or better grounds do you mean?"

"I hope you do not need to be told!" said Rufus, his eye sparkling half with fun and half with admiration at the face and manner with which Elizabeth turned upon him.

"Which leaves the lady at liberty to suppose what she pleases," said the first speaker.

"It leaves her at liberty to suppose nothing of the kind!" Rufus rejoined, with a little dilating of the nostril.

"Nothing can constrain my liberty in that respect," said the lady in question.

"Except your knowledge of human nature?" said Rufus.

"I have no hindrance in that," said Elizabeth.

"To supposing what you please?"

"Or what pleases you, perhaps," said the first speaker.

"Anything but that, Mr. Archibald!"

"Then it was no surprise to you that your father should set a young and lovely Mrs. Haye at the head of his establishment, even though he found her in the person of your playmate?"

Elizabeth hesitated; she drew in her under lip, and her eye darkened and lightened; but she hesitated. Then she spoke, looking down.

"I was surprised."

"Not a pleasant surprise?" said Mr. Archibald.

The girl's face literally flashed at him; from her two eyes the fire flew, as if the one would confound the other.

"How dare you ask me the question, sir!"

"Pardon me -- I had no idea there was any harm in it," said the person at whom the fire flew.

"Your ideas want correcting, sir, sadly! -- and your tongue."

"I will never offend again!" said Mr. Archibald bowing, and smiling a little.

"You never shall, with my good leave."

Mr. Archibald bowed again.

"Good morning! You will forgive me; and when I think time enough has elapsed, and I may with safety, I will come again."

"To visit my father, sir! --"

Not Queen Elizabeth, with ruff and farthingale, could have said it with more consciousness of her own dignity, or more superb dismission of that of another. But probably Queen Elizabeth would not have cast upon her courtiers the look, half asking for sympathy and half for approval, with which Elizabeth Haye turned to her companions. Her eye fell first upon Winthrop. But his did not meet her, and the expression of his face was very grave. Elizabeth's look went from it to Rufus. His was beaming.

"Capital!" he said. "That was admirable!"

"No," said Elizabeth after a slight hesitation, -- "it was not."

"I thought it was," said Rufus, -- "admirably done. Why was it not, Miss Haye? -- if I am not as impertinent as another? -- I thought he richly deserved his punishment."

"Yes," said Elizabeth in a dissatisfied kind of way, -- "enough of that, -- but I deserved better of myself than to give it to him."

"You are too hard upon yourself."

"Circumstances are sometimes."

"Will it do to say that?" said Winthrop looking up.

"Why not?"

"Will it do to confess oneself -- one's freedom of mind --under the power of _circumstance_, and so not one's own?"

"I must confess it," said Elizabeth, "for it's true, of _me_. I suppose, not of every one."

"Then you cannot depend upon yourself."

"Well, -- I can't."

He smiled.

"On whom then?"

"On no one! --"

And the blood sprung to her cheeks and the water to her eyes, with a sudden rush. It seemed that circumstance was not the only thing too hard for her; feeling had so far the mastery, for the minute, that her head bent down and she could not at once raise it up. Rufus walked off to the window, where he gave his attention to some greenhouse plants; Winthrop stood still.

"I would give anything in the world," said Elizabeth, lifting her head and at first humbly and then proudly wiping her tears away, -- "if I could learn self-control -- to command myself. Can one do it, Mr. Landholm? -- one with whom it is not born?"

"I believe so."

"After all, you can't tell much about it," said Elizabeth, "for it belongs to your nature."

"No credit to him," said Rufus returning; -- "it comes of the stock. An inch of self-control in one not accustomed to it, is worth more honour than all Governor's, which he can't help."

"I wouldn't give a pin for self-control in one not accustomed to it!" said Elizabeth; "it is the _habitual_ command over oneself, that I value."

"No let-up to it?" said Rufus.

"No; -- or only so much as to shew in what strength it exists. I am glad, for instance, that Washington for once forgot himself -- or no, he didn't _forget_ himself; but I am glad that passion got the better of him once. I respect the rest of his life infinitely more."

"Than that instance?"

"No, no! -- _for_ that instance."

"I am afraid you have a little tendency to hero-worship, Miss Elizabeth."

"A very safe tendency," said the young lady. "There aren't many heroes to call it out."

"Living heroes?"

"No, nor dead ones, -- if one could get at more than the great facts of their lives, which don't shew us the men."

"Then you are of opinion that 'trifles make the sum of human things?'"

"I don't know what are trifles," said Elizabeth.

"Dere is nozing is no trifle," said Mr. Herder, coming in from the other room. "Dere is no such thing as trifle. Miss Elisabet' hang her head a little one side and go softly, -- and people say, 'Miss Elisabet' is sad in her spirit -- what is the matter?' -- and you hold up your head straight and look bright out of your eyes, and they say, 'Miss Elisabet' is fière -- she feels herself goot; she do not fear nozing, she do not care for nozing.'"

"I am sure it is a trifle whether I look one way or another, Mr. Herder," said Elizabeth, laughing a little.

"Ozer people do not think so," said the naturalist.

"Besides, it is not true, that I fear nothing and care for nothing."

"But then you do not want to tell everybody what you do think," said the naturalist.

"I don't care much about it!" said Elizabeth. "I think that is a trifle, Mr. Herder."

"Which is?" -- said the naturalist.

"What people think about me."

"You do not think so?"

"I do."

"I am sorry," said the naturalist.

"Why?"

"It is not goot, for people to not care what ozer people thinks about them."

"Why isn't it good? I think it is. I am sure it is comfortable."

"It shews they have a mind to do something what ozer people will not like."

"Very well! --"

"Dat is not goot."

"Maybe it is good, Mr. Herder. People are not always right in their expectations."

"It is better to go smooth wiz people," said the naturalist shaking his head a little.

"Or without them," said Elizabeth.

"Question, can you do that?" said Rufus.

"What?" said his brother.

"Live smoothly, or live at all, without regard to other people."

"It is of the world at large I was speaking," said Elizabeth. "Of course there are some few, a very few, whose word -- and whose thought -- one would care for and strive for, -- that is not what I mean."

"And who are those few fine persons?" said Mr. Herder significantly.

"He is unhappy that doesn't know one or two," Elizabeth answered with infinite gravity.

"And the opinions of the rest of men you would despise?" said Rufus.

"Utterly! -- so far as they trenched upon my freedom of action."

"You can't live so," said Rufus shaking his head.

"I _will_ live so, if I live at all."

"Wint'rop, you do not say nozing," said the naturalist.

"What need, sir?"

"Dere is always need for everybody to say what he thinks," said Mr. Herder. "Here we have all got ourselves in a puzzle, and we don't know which way we stand."

"I am afraid every man must get out of that puzzle for himself, sir."

"Is it a puzzle at all?" said Elizabeth facing round upon him.

"Not when you have got out of it."

"Well, what's the right road out of it?"

"Break through everything in the way," said Rufus. "That seems to be the method in favour."

"What do you think is the _right_ way?" Elizabeth repeated without looking at the last speaker.

"If you set your face in the right quarter, there is always a straight road out in that direction," Winthrop answered with a little bit of a smile.

"Doesn't that come pretty near my rule?" said Elizabeth with a smile much broader.

"I think not. If I understood, your rule was to make a straight road out for yourself in any direction."

Elizabeth laughed and coloured a little, with no displeased expression. The laugh subsided and her face became very grave again as the gentlemen made their parting bows.

The brothers walked home in silence, till they had near reached their own door.

"How easily you make a straight way for yourself anywhere!" Rufus said suddenly and with half a breath of a sigh.

"What do you mean?" said Winthrop starting.

"You always did."

"What?"

"What you pleased."

"Well?" said Winthrop smiling.

"You may do it now. And will to the end of your life."

"Which seems to afford you somehow a gloomy prospect of contemplation," said his brother.

"Well -- it does -- and it should."

"I should like to hear you state your premises and draw your conclusion."

Rufus was silent and very sober for a little while. At last he said,

"Your success and mine have always been very different, in everything we undertook."

"Not in everything," said Winthrop.

"Well -- in almost everything."

"You say I do whatever I please. The difficulty with you sometimes, Will, is that you do not 'please' hard enough."

"It would be difficult for anybody to rival you in that," Rufus said with a mingling of expression, half ironical and half bitter. "You please so 'hard' that nobody else has a chance."

To which Winthrop made no answer.

"I am not sorry for it, Governor," Rufus said just as they reached their door, and with a very changed and quiet tone.

To which also Winthrop made no answer except by a look.