A vague hope trembled at the bottom of her
heart,--she thought of what she dared not to utter, and yet dared to
believe. They walked on together,--together they watched the last light
on the purple hills, the deep repose of the woods, whose summits were
still like “feathers of gold,”--together they once more tasted the
confidence of nature, and, amid the most perfect silence, there was a
mutual and unutterable eloquence in their hearts. The thoughts of other
days rushed on Elinor,--she ventured to raise her eyes to that
countenance which she once more saw “as it had been that of an angel.”
The glow and the smile, that made it appear like a reflexion of heaven,
were there still,--but that glow was borrowed from the bright flush of
the glorious west, and that smile was for nature,--not for her. She
lingered till she felt it fade with the fading light,--and a _last_
conviction striking her heart, she burst into an agony of tears. To his
words of affectionate surprise, and gentle consolation, she answered
only by fixing her appealing eyes on him, and agonizingly invoking his
name. She had trusted to nature, and to this scene of their first
meeting, to act as an interpreter between them,--and still even in
despair she trusted to it. “Perhaps there is not a more agonizing moment than that in which we feel
the aspect of nature give a perfect vitality to the associations of
_our_ hearts, while they lie buried in those in which we try _in vain to
revive them_. “She was soon undeceived. With that benignity which, while it speaks of
consolation, forbids hope--with that smile which angels may be supposed
to give on the last conflict of a sufferer who is casting off the
garments of mortality in pain and hope--with such an expression he whom
she loved regarded her. From another world he might have cast such a
glance on her,--and it sealed her doom in this for ever. * * * * * * *

“As, unable to witness the agony of the wound he had inflicted but could
not heal, he turned from her, the last light of day faded from the
hills--the sun of both worlds set on her eye and soul--she sunk on the
earth, and notes of faint music that seemed designed to echo the
words--“No--no--no--never--never more!” trembled in her ears. They were
as simple and monotonous as the words themselves, and were played
accidentally by a peasant boy who was wandering in the woods. But to the
unfortunate, every thing seems prophetic; and amid the shades of
evening, and accompanied by the sound of his departing footsteps, the
breaking heart of Elinor accepted the augury of these melancholy
notes(10). * * * * * * * * *

  (10) As this whole scene is taken from fact, I subjoin the notes whose
  modulation is so simple, and whose effect was so profound. [Music]

“A few days after this final meeting, Elinor wrote to her aunt in York
to announce, that if she still lived, and was not unwilling to admit
her, she would reside with her for life; and she could not help
intimating, that _her_ life would probably not outlast that of her
hostess. She did not tell what the widow Sandal had whispered to her at
her first arrival at the Castle, and what she now ventured to repeat
with a tone that struggled between the imperative and the
persuasive,--the conciliating and the intimidative. Elinor yielded,--and
the indelicacy of this representation, had only the effect to make her
shrink from its repetition. “On her departure, Margaret wept, and Sandal shewed as much tender
officiousness about her journey, as if it were to terminate in their
renewed bridal. To escape from this, Elinor hastened her preparations
for departure. “When she arrived at a certain distance from the Castle, she dismissed
the family carriage, and said she would go on foot with her female
servant to the farmhouse where horses were awaiting her. She went there,
but remained concealed, for the report of the approaching bridal
resounded in her ears. * * * * * * *

“The day arrived--Elinor rose very early--the bells rung out a merry
peal--(as she had once heard them do on another occasion)--the troops of
friends arrived in greater numbers, and with equal gaiety as they had
once assembled to escort her--she saw their equipages gleaming
along--she heard the joyous shouts of half the county--she imagined to
herself the timid smile of Margaret, and the irradiated countenance of
him who had been _her_ bridegroom. “Suddenly there was a pause. She felt that the ceremony was going
on--was finished--that the irrevocable words were spoken--the
indissoluble tie was knit! Again the shout and wild joyance burst forth
as the sumptuous cavalcade returned to the Castle. The glare of the
equipages,--the splendid habits of the riders,--the cheerful groupe of
shouting tenantry,----she saw it all! * * * * * * * * * *

“When all was over, Elinor glanced accidentally at her dress--it was
white like her bridal habit;--shuddering she exchanged it for a mourning
habit, and set out, as she hoped, on her last journey. CHAPTER XXXII. Fuimus, non sumus. “When Elinor arrived in Yorkshire, she found her aunt was dead. Elinor
went to visit her grave. It was, in compliance with her last request,
placed near the window of the independent meeting-house, and bore for
inscription her favourite text, “Those whom he foreknew, he also
predestinated,” &c. &c. Elinor stood by the grave some time, but could
not shed a tear. This contrast of a life so rigid, and a death so
hopeful,--this silence of humanity, and eloquence of the grave,--pierced
through her heart, as it will through every heart that has indulged in
the inebriation of human passion, and feels that the draught has been
drawn from broken cisterns. “Her aunt’s death made Elinor’s life, if possible, more secluded, and
her habits more monotonous than they would otherwise have been. She was
very charitable to the cottagers in her neighbourhood; but except to
visit their habitations, she never quitted her own. * * * * * * * *

“Often she contemplated a small stream that flowed at the end of her
garden. As she had lost all her sensibility of nature, another motive
was assigned for this mute and dark contemplation; and her servant, much
attached to her, watched her closely. * * * * * * * * *

“She was roused from this fearful state of stupefaction and despair,
which those who have felt shudder at the attempt to describe, by a
letter from Margaret. She had received several from her which lay
unanswered, (no unusual thing in those days), but this she tore open,
read with interest inconceivable, and prepared instantly to answer by
action. “Margaret’s high spirits seemed to have sunk in her hour of danger. She
hinted that that hour was rapidly approaching, and that she earnestly
implored the presence of her affectionate kinswoman to soothe and
sustain in the moment of her approaching peril.