"Around the very place doth brood
A calm and holy quietude."--REV. ISAAC WILLIAMS.
The level beams of a summer sun, ending one of his longest careers, were
tipping a mountain peak with an ineffable rosy purple, contrasting
with the deep shades of narrow ravines that cleft the rugged sides, and
gradually expanded into valleys, sloping with green pasture, or clothed
with wood. The whole picture, with its clear, soft sky, was retraced on
the waters of the little lake set in emerald meadows, which lay before
the eyes of Rachel Keith, as she reclined in a garden chair before the
windows of a pretty rustic-looking hotel, but there was no admiration,
no peaceful contemplation on her countenance, only the same weary air of
depression, too wistful and startled even to be melancholy repose, and
the same bewildered distressed look that had been as it were stamped on
her by the gaze of the many unfriendly eyes at the Quarter Sessions, and
by her two unfortunate dinner parties.
The wedding was to have been quietness itself, but though the bridegroom
had refused to contribute sister, brother-in-law, or even uncle to the
numbers, conventionalities had been too strong for Mrs. Curtis, and
"just one more" had been added to the guests till a sufficient multitude
had been collected to renew all Rachel's morbid sensations of distress
and bewilderment with their accompanying feverish symptoms, and she had
been only able to proceed on her journey by very short stages, taken
late in the day.
Alick had not forgotten her original views as to travelling, and as they
were eventually to go to Scotland, had proposed beginning with Dutch
reformatories and Swiss cretins; but she was so plainly unfit for extra
fatigue and bustle, that the first few weeks were to be spent in Wales,
where the enjoyment of fine scenery might, it was hoped, be beneficial
to the jaded spirits, and they had been going through a course of
passes and glens as thoroughly as Rachel's powers would permit, for any
over-fatigue renewed feverishness and its delusive miseries, and the
slightest alarm told upon the shattered nerves.
She did not easily give way at the moment, but the shock always took
revenge in subsequent suffering, which all Alick's care could not
prevent, though the exceeding charm of his tenderness rendered even the
indisposition almost precious to her.
"What a lovely sunset!" he said, coming to lean over the back of her
chair. "Have you been watching it?"
"I don't know."
"Are you very much tired?"
"No, it is very quiet here."
"Very; but I must take you in before that curling mist mounts into your
throat."
"This is a very nice place, Alick, the only really quiet one we have
found."
"I am afraid that it will be so no longer. The landlord tells me he has
letters from three parties to order rooms."