Mr. Allison paused a moment, and then said:
“Shall I go on?”
“Oh, yes! Speak freely. I am listening to your words as if they came from the lips of my own father.”
“An error in marriage is one of life’s saddest errors, said Mr. Allison.
“I believe that,” was the maiden’s calm remark; yet Mr. Allison saw that her eyes grew instantly brighter, and the hue of her cheeks warmer.
“In a true marriage, there must be good moral qualities. No pure-minded woman can love a man for an instant after she discovers that he is impure, selfish, and evil. It matters not how high his rank, how brilliant his intellect, how attractive his exterior person, how perfect his accomplishments. In her inmost spirit she will shrink from him, and feel his presence as a sphere of suffocation. Oh! can the thought imagine a sadder lot for a true-hearted woman! And there is no way of escape. Her own hands have wrought the chains that bind her in a most fearful bondage.”
Again Mr. Allison paused, and regarded his young companion with a look of intense interest.
“May heaven spare you from such a lot!” he said, in a low, subdued voice.
Fanny made no reply. She sat with her eyes resting on the ground, her lips slightly parted, and her cheeks of a paler hue.
“Can you see any truth in what I have been saying?” asked Mr. Allison, breaking in upon a longer pause than he had meant should follow his last remark.
“Oh, yes, yes; much truth. A new light seems to have broken suddenly into my mind.”
“Men bear about them a spiritual as well as a natural sphere of their quality.”
“If there is a spiritual form, there must be a spiritual quality,” said Fanny, partly speaking to herself, as if seeking more fully to grasp the truth she uttered.
“And spiritual senses, as well, by which qualities may be perceived,” added Mr. Allison.
“Yes,—yes.” She still seemed lost in her own thoughts.
“As our bodily senses enable us to discern the quality of material objects, and thus to appropriate what is good, and reject what is evil; in like manner will our spiritual senses serve us, and in a much higher degree, if we will but make the effort to use them.”
“I see but darkly. Oh! that my vision were clearer!” exclaimed the maiden, while a troubled expression slightly marred her beautiful face.
“Ever, my dear young friend,” said Mr. Allison, impressively, “be true to your native instincts. They will quickly warn you, if evil approaches. Oh! heed the warning. Give no favourable regard to the man toward whom you feel an instinctive repulsion at the first meeting. No matter what his station, connections, or personal accomplishments—heed the significant warning. Do not let the fascinations of a brilliant exterior, nor even ardent expressions of regard, make you for a moment forget that, when he first came near you, your spirit shrunk away, as from something that would do it harm. If you observe such a man closely, weigh all that he does and says, when ardent in the pursuit of some desired object, you will not lack for more palpable evidences of his quality than the simple impression which the sphere of his life made at your first meeting. Guarded as men are, who make an exterior different from their real quality, they are never able to assume a perfect disguise—no more than a deformed person can so hide, by dress, the real shape, that the attentive eye cannot discern its lack of symmetry. The eyes of your spirit see truths, as your natural eyes see material objects; and truths are real things. There are true principles, which, if obeyed, lead to what is good; and there are false principles, which, if followed, lead to evil. The one conducts to happiness, the other to inevitable misery. The warning which another sense, corresponding with the perception of odours in the body, gives you of evil in a man, at his first approach, is intended to put you on your guard, and lead to a closer observation of the person. The eyes of your understanding, if kept clear, will soon give you evidence as to his quality that cannot be gainsaid. And, believe me, Fanny, though a slight acquaintance may seem to contradict the instinctive judgment, in nine cases out of ten the warning indication will be verified in the end. Do you understand me?”
“Oh, yes—yes,” was the low, but earnest response. Yet the maiden’s eyes were not lifted from the ground.
“Will you try and remember what I have said, Fanny?”
“I can never forget it, Mr. Allison—never!” She seemed deeply disturbed.
Both were silent for some time. Mr. Allison then said:
“But the day is waning, my dear young friend. It is time we were both at home.”
“True.” And Fanny arose and walked by the old man’s side, until their ways diverged. Both of their residences were in sight and near at hand.
“Do not think of me, Fanny,” said Mr. Allison, when about parting with his companion, “as one who would oppress you with thoughts too serious for your years. I know the dangers that lie in your path of life, and only seek to guard you from evil. Oh! keep your spirit pure, and its vision clear. Remember what I have said, and trust in the unerring instinct given to every innocent heart.”
The old man had taken her hand, and was looking tenderly down upon her sweet, young face. Suddenly her eyes were lifted to his. There was a strong light in them.
“God bless you, sir!”
The energy with which these unexpected words were spoken, almost startled Mr. Allison. Ere he had time for a response, Fanny had turned from him, and was bounding away with fleet footsteps toward her home.
CHAPTER X.
EARNESTLY as Fanny Markland strove to maintain a calm exterior before her mother and aunt, the effort availed not; and so, as early in the evening as she could retire from the family, without attracting observation, she did so. And now she found herself in a state of deep disquietude. Far too young was the maiden to occupy, with any degree of calmness, the new position in which she was so unexpectedly placed. The sudden appearance of Mr. Lyon, just when his image was beginning to take the highest place in her mind, and the circumstances attending that appearance, had, without effacing the image, dimmed its brightness. Except for the interview with Mr. Allison, this effect might not have taken place. But his words had penetrated deeply, and awakened mental perceptions that it was now impossible to obscure by any fond reasonings in favour of Mr. Lyon. How well did Fanny now remember the instant repulsion felt towards this man, on their first meeting. She had experienced an instant constriction about the heart, as if threatened with suffocation. The shadow, too, about which Aunt Grace had spoken, had also been perceived by her. But in a little while, under the sunshine of a most fascinating exterior, all these first impressions were lost, and, but for the words of Mr. Allison, would have been regarded as false impressions. Too clearly had the wise old man presented the truth—too clearly had he elevated her thoughts into a region where the mind sees with a steadier vision—to leave her in danger of entering the wrong way, without a distinct perception that it was wrong.