Gladys, the Reaper. Anne Beale
to curl; he has what might be termed poetical eyes, bright, piercing, and very restless; the sharp, aquiline nose of his father, slightly modified; and a mouth and brow which curl and knit in a manner that may be poetic, but might be disagreeable, under less soothing influences. That he is very handsome no one could dispute, and it is equally certain that he has an air much above the position in which he was born; but the expression of his face inspires distrust rather than confidence, and conveys the impression that there is more of passion than feeling beneath the fiery eyes and compressed mouth.
A great contrast to this family genius is presented in the person of his cousin Rowland, now addressing him earnestly and seriously upon the grave subjects naturally uppermost at such a time. He, too, is sufficiently good-looking, with an open, though grave, cast of countenance, fine, soft, hazel eyes, and a tall, manly figure. By 'sufficiently good-looking,' I mean that he is neither very handsome nor ugly, and when his lady friends debate upon his outer man they generally wind up by saying, 'Well, if he isn't handsome, he is very genteel.'
We are not going to repeat here the well-known fable of the 'Hare and the Tortoise,' but something of the character of those animals may be found in the cousins. At their first dame's school, as well as at the more advanced grammar school of their little town. Howel was always able to beat Rowland in swiftness, whilst Rowland effectually distanced Howel in the long run. It was Rowland who carried off the prizes, when study and prolonged endeavour were necessary to obtain them, whilst Howel eclipsed all his contemporaries, if a theme were to be written, or a poem learnt.
Such differences are so frequent, and have been so often discussed that it is scarcely necessary to pursue the contrast further; but the result at the present stands thus. Howel, the elder of the two, has dipped a little into everything; has gained a reputation for genius; has been articled to an attorney—but is in no apparent danger of becoming one—has written various articles for the county papers, and has had the pleasure of seeing them printed; has acquired a smattering of several languages, and various styles of music; and has proved himself an admired beau amongst the ladies, and a favourite boon companion amongst the gentlemen. He has been idolised and spoilt by his mother, and stinted and pinched by his father, and having no very great respect or admiration for the talents or conduct of either parent, has not tried much to please them, save when it suited him.
The result of all this, if not already apparent, will doubtless be seen hereafter, for, at four or five and twenty, conduct and principles begin to establish themselves.
Rowland Prothero is very much the reverse of all this. From a child he had a desire to enter the Church, which desire was fostered by his uncle and aunt into a resolution, when he grew old enough to resolve. As they very nearly adopted and educated him, his parents made no objection, and as they were ambitious to raise their family in worldly position, they spared no expense.
Rowland was reckoned dull, but plodding, at Rugby, whither his uncle sent him. However, his dulness and plodding were more successful than the brightness of many, since they managed to gain a scholarship at school, which helped him at Oxford. He was called proud and obstinate, and he was both. Pride and obstinacy were the characteristics of his family, but in him they fortunately tended to good: inasmuch as his pride generally led him to do well, and his obstinacy kept up his pride.
At present, it would be difficult to say whether he is a young man likely to shine in the path he has chosen, or to walk quietly along it unnoticed. His friends do not anticipate anything remarkable, but they expect him to be slow and sure. He did very well at college, but gained no greater honours than the respect and goodwill of those he was known to. Query—Is not that worth as much, morally, as a first class?
At home, he is understood by few. He has not many associates, because, either from his own fault, or some mental peculiarity, he cannot fall in with those who are immediately about him; and consequently is rather feared by his acquaintances and reckoned proud, stiff, and conceited—above his birth, in short.
With him, as with Howel and every one else, the course of years will show the man. 'Handsome is that handsome does.'
'The fact is, Rowland,' said Howel, as he suddenly stood still in one of his rapid walks across the room, 'you and I never could agree in anything, and never shall.'
'I hope we may yet agree in many things,' said Rowland gently. 'At present, all I wish you to do is to pay your debts, go to London, take out your stamps, and become an attorney.'
'I am the best judge of that, and shall be my own master now. At all events, I can make some people ashamed of themselves.'
'I only wish to advise you for your good, now that you are your own master. Your poor father begged me—'
'Oh, Rowland, I can't stand any more about my father. Everybody knows what he was, and, I suppose, nobody expects me to live in the same line. I am emancipated, thank heaven! and the world shall soon know it.'
'Still, he was your father.'
'No one knows that better than I do, I should imagine; but if you expect me to mourn as others do for a parent, you will be disappointed. He never showed me one token of love, or acted by me as a father from the day of my birth till his death.'
'At least he has left you and your mother handsomely provided for, and with his last words, hoped that you were now very steady.'
'He did! I wonder who dares to say that I am not steady? But how do you know how we are provided for?'
'He begged me to write down what he was worth. I will give it you at some future period, but not now.'
'Why not now?'
'Because I think it is scarcely yet a time to consider money matters. After the last duties are performed you shall have the paper. Part of his property is written down, but a box of gold and some other sums he did not name. After that last sad scene one can scarcely think of anything earthly. Oh, Howel! I wish you would consider the shortness and uncertainty of life, and what is its end.'
'So awful do I consider its end that I mean to enjoy it while it lasts. But don't go off with the impression that I was not shocked and frightened with what we have just seen. It is one thing to read and write about a death-bed and another to witness it. But I cannot weep or pray as some people can.'
'You might do both if you would only seek aright.'
'There, enough! I am past being preached to as a naughty boy, and can now look forward to some enjoyment without robbing my own father, or getting my mother to rob him, to procure it. But I shall never forget that last struggle? no, never.'
Here, with a face of horror, Howel began his restless walk again. Rowland sat in melancholy silence.
'Rowland,' suddenly broke in Howel, 'how is Netta?'
'Quite well, I thank you,' answered Rowland gravely.
'I have not seen her for a long time? will you remember me to her?'
'I cannot promise to do so.'
'Do you think me a fiend, sir, that my name cannot be mentioned to my cousin? I will manage to convey my own remembrances.'
'Howel, you know how it is? I do not mean to be unkind. If only you would give up your old life, enter your profession, and begin another—'
'That is as I choose. I shall be glad of the paper you wrote for my father, and then you and I, Rowland, are best apart.'
'Good-bye then, Howel? perhaps some day you may know that I wish you well. I will bring the paper at the funeral.'
'For heaven's sake stay, or send some one else! I cannot bear to be alone here? his ghost will haunt me.'
'Then let me read to you.'
Howel assented gloomily and threw himself on the bed in the corner of the room. Rowland took a small Testament from his pocket and resolutely read several chapters.
During the reading Howel fell asleep.
CHAPTER V