Hopes and Fears

of shortsighted dread of the uproar that would have followed if I had not done it. Either she would have drowned herself, or her mother would have prosecuted me for breach of promise, or she would have proclaimed all to Lucy or Mr. Prendergast. I hadn't courage for either; though, Honor, I had nearly told you the day I went to Ireland, when I felt myself done for.'

'You were married then?'

'Half-an-hour!' said Owen, with something of a smile, and a deep sigh. 'If I had spoken, it would have saved a life! but I could not bear to lose my place with you, nor to see that sweet face turned from me.'

'You must have known that it would come out in time, Owen. I never could understand your concealment.'

'I hardly can,' said Owen, 'except that one shuffles off unpleasant subjects! I did fancy I could stave it off till Oxford was over, and I was free of the men there; but that notion might have been a mere excuse to myself for putting off the evil day. I was too much in debt, too, for an open rupture with you; and as to her, I can truly say that my sole shadow of an excuse is that I was too young and selfish to understand what I was inflicting!' He passed his hand over his face, and groaned, as he added-'Well, that is over now; and at last I can bear to look at her child!' Then recurring in haste to the former subject-'You were asking about Phoebe! Yes, when I saw the fresh face ennobled but as simple as ever, the dog in the manger seemed to me a reasonable beast! Randolf's admiration was a bitter pill. If I were to be nailed here for ever, I could not well spare the moonbeams from my prison! But that's over now-it was a diseased fancy! I have got my boy now, and can move about; and when I get into harness, and am in the way of seeing people, and maturing my invention, I shall never think of it again.'

'Ah! I am afraid that is all I can wish for you!'

'Don't wish it so pitifully, then,' said Owen, smiling. 'After having had no hope of her for five years, and being the poor object I am, this is no such great blow; and I am come to the mood of benevolence in which I really desire nothing so much as to see them happy.'

'I will think about it,' said Honor.

And though she was bewildered and disappointed, the interview had, on the whole, made her happier, by restoring the power of admiring as much as she loved. Yet it was hard to be required to sacrifice the interests of one whom she adored, her darling, who might need help so much, to do justice to a comparative stranger; and the more noble and worthy Owen showed himself, the less willing was she to decide on committing herself to his unconscious rival. Still, did the test of idolatry lie here?

She perceived how light-hearted this conversation had rendered Owen, as though he had thrown off a weight that had long been oppressing him. He was overflowing with fun and drollery throughout the journey; and though still needing a good deal of assistance at all changes of carriage, showed positive boyish glee in every feat he could accomplish for himself; and instead of shyly shrinking from the observation and casual help of fellow-travellers, gave ready smiles and thanks.

Exhilarated instead of wearied by the journey, he was full of enjoyment of the lodgings, the window, and the view; a new spring of youthfulness seemed to have come back to him, and his animation and enterprise carried Honor along with him. Assuredly she had never known more thorough present pleasure than in his mirthful, affectionate talk, and in the sight of his daily progress towards recovery; and a still greater happiness was in store for her. On the second day, he begged to accompany her to the week-day service at the neighbouring church, previously sending in a request for the offering of the thanks of Owen Charteris Sandbrook for preservation in great danger, and recovery from severe illness.

'Dearest,' she said, 'were I to recount my causes of thanksgiving, I should not soon have done! This is best of all.'

'Not fully best yet, is it?' said Owen, looking up to her with eyes like those of his childhood.

'No; but it soon will be.'

'Not yet,' said Owen; 'I must think first; perhaps write or talk to Robert Fulmort. I feel as if I could now.'

'You long for it?'

'Yes, as I never even thought I did,' said Owen, with much emotion. 'It was strange, Honor, as soon as I came home to the old places, how the old feelings, that had been set aside so long, came back again. I would have given the world to recover them in Canada, but could only envy Randolf, till they woke up again of themselves at the sight of the study, and the big Bible we used to read with you.'

'Yet you never spoke.'

'No; I could not till I had proved to myself that there was no time-serving in them, if you must know the truth!' said Owen, colouring a little. 'Besides, having been told my wits would go, how did I know but that they were a symptom of my second childhood?'

'How could any one have been so cruel as to utter such a horrible presage?'

'One overhears and understands more than people imagine, when one has nothing to do but to lie on the broad of one's back and count the flies,' said Owen. 'So, when I was convinced that my machine was as good as ever, but only would not stand application, I put off the profession, just to be sure what I should think of it when I could think.'

'Well!' was all Honor could say, gazing through glad tears.

'And now, Honor dear,' said he, with a smile, 'I don't know how it is. I've tried experiments on my brains. I have gone through half-a-dozen tough calculations. I have read over a Greek play, and made out a problem or two in mechanics, without being the worse for it; but, somehow, I can't for the life of me hark back to the opinions that had such power over me at Oxford. I can't even recollect the half of them. It is as if that hemlock spruce had battered them out of my head.'

'Even like as a dream when one awaketh.'

'Something like it! Why, even unknownst to you, Sweet Honey, I got at one or two of the books I used to swear by, and somehow I could not see the force of what they advanced. There's a futility about it all, compared with the substance.'

'Before, you did not believe with your heart, so your understanding failed to be convinced.'

'Partly so,' said Owen, thoughtfully. 'The fact is, that religion is so much proved to the individual by personal experience and actual sensation, that those who reason from without are on different ground, and the avocato del diavolo has often apparently the advantage, because the other party's security is that witness in his own breast which cannot be brought to light.'

'Only apparently.'

'Really, sometimes, with the lookers-on who have accepted the doctrines without feeling them. They, having no experience, feel the failure of evidence, where the tangible ends.'

'Do you mean to say that this was the case with yourself, my dear? I should have thought, if ever child were good-'

'So did I,' said Owen, smiling. 'I simulated the motions to myself and every one else: and there was a grain of reality, after all; but neither you nor I ever knew how much was mere imitation and personal influence. When I outgrew implicit faith in you, I am afraid my higher faith went with it-first through recklessness, then through questioning. After believing more than enough, the transition is easy to doubting what is worthy of credit at all.'

'From superstition to rationalism.'

'Yes; overdoing articles of faith and observances, while the mind and conscience are young and tender, brings a dangerous reaction when liberty and independent reflection begin.'

'But, Owen, I may have overdone observances, yet I did not teach superstitions,' said Honor.

'Not consciously,' said Owen. 'You meant to teach me dogmatically only what you absolutely believed yourself. But you did not know how boundless is a child's readiness to accept what comes as from a spiritual authority, or you would have drawn the line more strongly between doctrine and opinion, fact and allegory, the true and the edifying.'

'In effect, I treated you as the Romish Church began by doing to the populace.'

'Exactly so. Like the mediaeval populace, I took legend for fact; and like the modern populace, doubted of the whole together, instead of sifting. There is my confession, Honor dear. I know you are happier for hearing it in full; but remember, my errors are not chargeable upon you. If I had ever been true towards myself or you, and acted out what I thought I felt, I should have had the personal experience that would have protected the truth when the