II.—­Tempted

A week afterwards Hardress visited his parents at their Killarney residence, to find that his mother, with her niece, Anne Chute, had gone to a grand ball in the neighbourhood.  His father was spending the night with his boon fellows, and a favourite old huntsman lay dying in a room near by.  This retainer told his young master that Anne Chute loved him well, and that she deserved a better fortune than to love without return.  Hardress went to bed, and was awakened by his mother upon her return.  She reproved him for his long absence, and told him of the sensation his beautiful cousin was making in society.  In the morning he met Anne with some consciousness and distress.  A womanly reserve and delicacy made the girl unwilling to affect an intimacy that might not be graciously acknowledged.  She treated him coldly, and began to read some silly novel of the day.

“Ah, Eily, my own, own Eily!” he murmured to himself.  “You are worth this fine lady a hundred times over!”

His mother appeared; her raillery entrapped both him and Anne in a scene of coquetry.  No longer embarrassed by the feeling of strangeness and apprehension which had depressed her spirits on their first meeting after his return from college, Anne now assumed ease and liveliness of manner.  Every hour he spent in her society removed from his mind the prejudice he had conceived against her, and supplied its place with a feeling of strong kindness.  When he left the merry circle to return to Eily, blank regret fell suddenly upon his heart.  But the sorrow which Anne manifested at his departure, and the cordial pleasure with which she heard of his intention to return soon, inspired him with the strangest happiness.  The next time he thought of Eily and his cousin, the conjunction was less favourable to the former.

“My poor little love!” he thought.  “How much she has to learn before she can assume, with comfort to herself, the place for which I have designed her!”

At the cottage Eily received him with rapture and affection, and every other feeling was banished from his mind.  But in the course of the evening she remarked that he was more silent and abstracted than she had ever seen him, and that he more frequently spoke in connection of some little breach of etiquette, or inelegance of manner, than in those terms of eloquent praise and fondness which he was accustomed to lavish upon her.  The next day he returned to his mother’s house leaving her in tears.

That night Mrs. Cregan gave a ball, at which he was one of the gayest revellers.  Soon afterwards his mother also told him that Anne was in love, and with none other than himself.  In great agitation he replied that he had already pledged himself to another.  She insisted that any other engagement must be broken, since if there was to be a victim it should not be Anne.  The lady’s violent maternal affection overruled him, and in spite of the call of honour he dared not tell her that he was already married.