The widow
Sandal was present--she shewed much agitation at the appearance of
Elinor; but when she saw this extraordinary and spontaneous movement, it
was observed she smiled. “Soon after, Elinor retired to the apartment she had formerly occupied. By the affectionate and delicate prevoyance of Margaret, the furniture
had all been changed--there was nothing to remind her of former days,
except her heart. She sat for some time reflecting on her reception, and
hope died within her heart as she thought of it. The strongest
expression of aversion or disdain would not have been so withering. “It is certain that the fiercest passions may be exchanged for their
widest extremes in a time incredibly short, and by means the most
incalculable. Within the narrow circle of a day, enemies may embrace,
and lovers may hate,--but, in the course of centuries, pure complacency
and cordial good-will never can be exalted into passion. The wretched
Elinor felt this,--and feeling it, knew that all was lost. “She had now, for many days, to undergo the torture of complacent and
fraternal affection from the man she loved,--and perhaps a keener
torture was never endured. To feel hands that we long to press to our
burning hearts, touch ours with cool and pulseless tranquillity--to see
eyes in whose light we live, throw on us a cold but smiling beam, that
gives light, but not fertility, to the parched and thirsting soil of the
heart--to hear the ordinary language of affectionate civility addressed
to us in tones of the most delicious suavity--to seek in these
expressions an ulterior meaning, and to find it not---- This--this is an
agony which only those who have felt can conceive! “Elinor, with an effort that cost her heart many a pang, mingled in the
habits of the house, which had been greatly changed since the death of
Mrs Ann. The numerous suitors of the wealthy and noble heiress, now
crowded to the Castle; and, according to the custom of the times, they
were sumptuously entertained, and invited to prolong their stay by
numerous banquets. “On these occasions, John Sandal was the first to pay distinguished
attention to Elinor. They danced together; and though her Puritanic
education had taught her an abhorrence of those “devil’s measures,” as
her family was accustomed to term them, she tried to adapt herself to
the gay steps of the Canaries(9), and the stately movements of the
Measures--(for the newer dances had not, even in report, reached
Mortimer Castle)--and her slender and graceful form needed no other
inspiration than the support of John Sandal’s arms, (who was himself an
exquisite dancer), to assume all the graces of that delightful exercise. Even the practised courtiers applauded her. But, when it was over,
Elinor felt, that had John Sandal been dancing with a being the most
indifferent to him on earth, his manner would have been exactly the
same. No one could point with more smiling grace to her slight
deviations from the figure,--no one could attend her to her seat with
more tender and anxious politeness, and wave the vast fan of those days
over her with more graceful and assiduous courtesy. But Elinor felt that
these attentions, however flattering, were offered not by a lover. * * *
* * * * * *

  (9) In Cowley’s “Cutter of Coleman Street,” Mrs Tabitha, a rigid
  Puritan, tells her husband she had danced the Canaries in her youth. And in Rushworth’s Collections, if I remember right, Prynne vindicates
  himself from the charge of a general denunciation against dancing, and
  even speaks of the “Measures,” a stately, solemn dance, with some
  approbation. “Sandal was absent on a visit to some neighbouring nobleman, and
Margaret and Elinor were one evening completely alone. Each seemed
equally anxious for an explanation, which neither appeared willing to
begin. Elinor had lingered till twilight at the casement, from which she
had seen him ride, and lingered still when to see him was no longer
possible. Her sight was strained to catch a glimpse of him through the
gathering clouds, as her imagination still toiled to catch a gleam of
that light of the heart, which now struggled dimly amid clouds of gloomy
and unpierceable mystery. “Elinor,” said Margaret emphatically, “look
for him no longer,--he never can be yours!”

“The sudden address, and the imperative tone of conviction, had upon
Elinor the effect of being addressed by a supernatural monitor. She was
unable even to ask how the terrible intelligence that burst on her so
decisively, was obtained. “There is a state of mind in which we listen thus to a human voice as if
it were an oracle,--and instead of asking an explanation of the destiny
it announces, we wait submissively for what yet remains to be told. In
this mood, Elinor slowly advanced from the casement, and asked in a
voice of fearful calmness, “Has he explained himself perfectly to
you?”--“Perfectly.”--“And there is nothing to expect?”--“Nothing.”--“And
you have heard this from himself--his very self?”--“I have; and, dear
Elinor, let us never again speak on the subject.”--“Never!” answered
Elinor,--“Never!”

“The veracity and dignity of Margaret’s character, were inviolable
securities for the truth of what she uttered; and perhaps that was the
very reason why Elinor tried to shrink most from the conviction. In a
morbid state of heart, we cannot bear truth--the falsehood that
intoxicates us for a moment, is worth more than the truth that would
disenchant us for life.--_I hate him because he tells me the truth_, is
the language natural to the human mind, from the slave of power to the
slave of passion. * * * * * * * *

“Other symptoms that could not escape the notice of the most shallow,
struck her every hour. That devotion of the eye and heart,--of the
language and the look, that cannot be mistaken,--were all obviously
directed to Margaret. Still Elinor lingered in the Castle, and said to
herself, while every day she saw and felt what was passing, “Perhaps.”
That is the last word that quits the lips of those who love. * * * * * *

“She saw with all her eyes,--she felt to the bottom of her soul,--the
obviously increasing attachment of John Sandal and Margaret; yet still
she dreamed of interposing obstacles,--of _an explanation_. When passion
is deprived of its proper aliment, there is no telling the food on which
it will prey,--the impossibilities to which, like a famished garrison,
it will look for its wretched sustenance. “Elinor had ceased to demand the heart of the being she was devoted to. She now lived on his looks. She said to herself, Let him smile, though
not on me, and I am happy still--wherever the sun-light falls, the earth
must be blessed. Then she sunk to lower claims. She said, Let me but be
in his presence, and that is enough--let his smiles and his soul be
devoted to another, one wandering ray may reach me, and that will be
enough! “Love is a very noble and exalting sentiment in its first germ and
principle.