The Old Helmet. Volume I

"What should a woman do – what is it her duty to do – who finds herself in every way bound to fulfil such engagements, except – "

"Except what?"

"Except her own heart, ma'am," Eleanor said low and ashamed.

"My dear, you do not mean that your heart was not in these engagements when you made them?"

"I did not know where it was, aunty. It had nothing to do with them."

"Where is it now?"

"It is not in them, ma'am."

"Eleanor, let us speak plainly. Do you mean that you do not love this gentleman whom you have promised to marry?"

Eleanor hesitated, covered her face, and hesitated; at last spoke.

"Aunt Caxton, I thought I did; – but I know now I do not; not as I think I ought; – I do not as he loves me." Eleanor spoke with burning cheeks, which her aunt could see even in the firelight and though Eleanor's hand endeavoured to shield them.

"What made you enter into these engagements, my dear?"

"The will and power of two other people, aunt Caxton – and, I am afraid, now, a little ambition of my own was at work in it. And I liked him too. It was not a person that I did not like. But I did not know what I was doing. I liked him, aunt Caxton."

"And now it is a question with you whether you will fulfil these engagements?"

"Yes ma'am, – because I do not wish to fulfil them. I do not know whether I ought, or ought not."

Mrs. Caxton was silent in her turn.

"Eleanor, – do you like some one else better?"

"Nobody else likes me better, aunt Caxton – there is nothing of that kind – "

"Still my question is not answered, Eleanor. Have you more liking for any other person?"

"Aunt Caxton – I do not know – I have seen – I do not know how to answer you!" Eleanor said in bitter confusion; then hiding her face she went on – "Just so much as this is true, aunt Caxton, – I have seen, what makes me know that I do not love Mr. Carlisle; not as he loves me."

Mrs. Caxton stooped forward, took Eleanor's hands down from her face and kissed her. It was a sad, drooping, pained face, hot with shame.

"My child," she said, "your honesty has saved you. I could not have advised you, Eleanor, if you had not been frank with me. Poor child!"

Eleanor came down on the floor and hid her face in Mrs. Caxton's lap. Her aunt kept one hand softly resting on her hair while she spoke. She was silent first, and then she spoke very tenderly.

"You did not know, at the time you engaged yourself to this gentleman, that you were doing him wrong?"

"No, ma'am – I thought rather of wrong to myself."

"Why?"

"They were in such a hurry, ma'am."

"Since then, you have seen what you like better."

"Yes, ma'am," – said Eleanor doubtfully, – "or what I know I could like better, if there was occasion. That is all."

"Now the question is, in these circumstances, what is your duty to Mr.

Carlisle."

Eleanor lifted her head to look into her aunt's face for the decision to come.

"The rule of judgment is not far off, Eleanor; it is the golden rule. 'Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.' My dear, take the case of the person you could like best in the world; – would you have such a person marry you if his heart belonged to somebody else?"

"Not for the whole world!" said Eleanor raising her head which had fallen again. "But aunt Caxton, that is not my case. My heart is not anybody's."

"Put it differently then. Would you marry such a man, if you knew that his mere liking for another was stronger than his love for you?"

"I think – I would rather die!" said Eleanor slowly.

"Then I think your question is answered."

"But aunt Caxton, it is not answered. Mr. Carlisle would not feel so. I know, he would have me marry him, if he knew that my heart was a thousand times another person's – which it is not."

"Don't alter the case," said Mrs. Caxton, "except to make it stronger. If he were the right sort of man, he would not have you do so. There is no rule that we should make other people's wishes our standard of right."

"But aunt Caxton, I have done Mr. Carlisle grievous wrong. O, I feel that! – "

"Yes. What then?"

"Am I not bound to make him all the amends in my power?"

"Short of doing further wrong. Keep right and wrong always clear, Eleanor. They never mean the same thing."

"Aunty, what you must think of me!"

"I think of you just now as saved from shipwreck. Many a girl has drifted on in the course you were going, without courage to get out of the current, until she has destroyed herself; and perhaps somebody else."

"I do not think I had much courage, aunt Caxton," said Eleanor blushing.

"What had you, then?"

"It was mainly my horror of marrying that man, after I found I did not love him. And yet, aunt Caxton, I do like him; and I am very, very, very sorry! It has almost seemed to me sometimes that I ought to marry him and give him what I can; and yet, if I were ready, I would rather die."

"Is your doubt settled?"

"Yes, ma'am," – said Eleanor sadly.

"My dear, you have done wrong, – I judge, somewhat ignorantly, – but mischief can never be mended by mischief. To marry one man, preferring another, is the height of disloyalty to both him and yourself; unless you can lay the whole truth before him; and then, as I think, in most cases it would be the height of folly."