Everywhere there was but little furniture, and that only the most necessary, and of the ******st forms. The extravagant love of ornament which I had noted in this people elsewhere seemed here to have given place to the feeling that the house itself and its associations was the ornament of the country life amidst which it had been left stranded from old times, and that to re-ornament it would but take away its use as a piece of natural beauty.
We sat down at last in a room over the wall which Ellen had caressed, and which was still hung with old tapestry, originally of no artistic value, but now faded into pleasant grey tones which harmonised thoroughly well with the quiet of the place, and which would have been ill supplanted by brighter and more striking decoration.
I asked a few random questions of Ellen as we sat there, but scarcely listened to her answers and presently became silent, and then scarce conscious of anything, but that I was there in that old room, the doves crooning from the roofs of the barn and dovecot beyond the window opposite to me.
My thought returned to me after what I think was but a minute or two, but which, as in a vivid dream, seemed as if it had lasted a long time, when I saw Ellen sitting, looking all the fuller of life and pleasure and desire from the contrast with the grey faded tapestry with its futile design, which was now only bearable because it had grown so faint and feeble.
She looked at me kindly, but as if she read me through and through.
She said:"You have begun again your never-ending contrast between the past and this present. Is that not so?""True," said I. "I was thinking of what you, with your capacity and intelligence, joined to your love of pleasure, and your impatience of unreasonable restraint--of what you would have been in that past. And even now, when all is won and has been for a long time, my heart is sickened with thinking of all the waste of life that has gone on for so many years!""So many centuries," she said, "so many ages!""True," I said; "too true," and sat silent again.
She rose up and said: "Come, I must not let you go off into a dream again so soon. If we must lose you, I want you to see all that you can see first before you go back again.""Lose me?" I said--"go back again? Am I not to go up to the North with you? What do you mean?"She smiled somewhat sadly, and said: "Not yet; we will not talk of that yet. Only, what were you thinking of just now?"I said falteringly: "I was saying to myself, The past, the present?
Should she not have said the contrast of the present with the future:
of blind despair with hope?"
"I knew it," she said. Then she caught my hand and said excitedly, "Come while there is yet time! Come!" and she led me out of the room;and as we were going downstairs and out of the house into the garden by a little side door which opened out of a curious lobby, she said in a calm voice, as if she wished me to forget her sudden nervousness:
"Come! we ought to join the others before they come in here looking for us. And let me tell you, my friend, that I can see you are too apt to fall into dreamy musing: no doubt because you are not yet used to our life of repose amidst of energy; of work which is pleasure and pleasure which is work."She paused a little, and as we came out into the lovely garden again, she said: "My friend, you were saying that you wondered what I should have been if I had lived in those past days of turmoil and oppression.
Well, I think I have studied the history of them to know pretty well.
I should have been one of the poor, for my father when he was working was a mere tiller of the soil. Well, I could not have borne that;therefore my beauty and cleverness and brightness" (she spoke with no blush or simper of false shame) "would have been sold to rich men, and my life would have been wasted indeed; for I know enough of that to know that I should have had no choice, no power of will over my life;and that I should never have bought pleasure from the rich men, or even opportunity of action, whereby I might have won some true excitement. I should have wrecked and wasted in one way or another, either by penury or by luxury. Is it not so?""Indeed it is," said I.
She was going to say something else, when a little gate in the fence, which led into a small elm-shaded field, was opened, and **** came with hasty cheerfulness up the garden path, and was presently standing between us, a hand laid on the shoulder of each. He said: "Well, neighbours, I thought you two would like to see the old house quietly without a crowd in it. Isn't it a jewel of a house after its kind?
Well, come along, for it is getting towards dinner-time. Perhaps you, guest, would like a swim before we sit down to what I fancy will be a pretty long feast?""Yes," I said, "I should like that.""Well, good-bye for the present, neighbour Ellen," said ****. "Here comes Clara to take care of you, as I fancy she is more at home amongst our friends here."Clara came out of the fields as he spoke; and with one look at Ellen Iturned and went with ****, doubting, if I must say the truth whether Ishould see her again.
