The Heart - Page 25/151

Madam Rosamond Cavendish was, I suppose, a beauty, though after a

strange and curious fashion, being seemingly dependent upon those

around her for it, as a chameleon is dependent for his colour upon

his surroundings. I have seen Madam Cavendish, when praised by one

she loved, or approached by the little maid, her daughter, with an

outstretch of fair little arms and a coercion of dimples toward

kisses, flash into such radiance of loveliness that, boy as I was, I

was dazzled by her. Then, on the other hand, I have seen her as

dully opaque of any meaning of beauty as one could well be. But she

loved Captain Cavendish well, and I wot he never saw her but with

that wondrous charm, since whenever he cast his eyes upon her it

must have been to awaken both reflection and true life of joy in her

face. She was so small and exceeding slim that she seemed no more

than a child, and she was not strong, having a quick cough ready at

every breath of wind, and she rode nor walked like our English

women, but lay about on cushions in the sun. Still, when she moved,

it was with such a vitality of grace and such readiness that no one,

I suspect, knew how frail she was until she sickened and died the

second year of my stay in Cambridge. When I returned home I found in

her stead Madam Judith Cavendish, the mother of Captain Cavendish,

who had come from Huntingdonshire. She was at that time well turned

of threescore, but a woman who was, as she had always been, a power

over those about her. She looked her age, too, except for her

figure, for her hair was snowy white, and the lines of her face

fixed beyond influence of further smiles or tears. My imagination

has always been a mighty factor in my estimation of the characters

of others, and I have often wondered how true to facts I might be,

but verily it seemed to me that after Madam Cavendish arrived at

Cavendish Court the influence of that great strength of character,

which, when it exists in a woman, intimidates every man, no matter

who he may be, made itself evident in the very king's highway

approaching Cavendish Court, and increased as the distance

diminished, according to some of my mathematical rules.

There were in her no change and shifting to new lights of beauty or

otherwise at the estimation of those around her; she rather

controlled, as it were, all the domestic winds. Captain Cavendish

bowed before his superior on his own deck, though I believe there

was much love betwixt them, and, as for the little maid, she

tempered the wilfulness which was then growing with her growth by

outward meekness at least. I used to think her somewhat afraid of

her grandmother, and disposed to cling for protection and

mother-love to her elder sister Catherine. Catherine, in those two

years, had blossomed out her beauty; her sallowness and green pallor

had become bloom, though not rosy, rather an ineffable clear white

like a lily. Her eyes, at once shy and antagonistic, had become as

steady as stars in their estimation of self and others, and all her

slender height was as well in her power of graceful guidance as the

height of a young oak tree. Catherine, in those days, paid very

little heed to me, for her one year of superior age seemed then

threefold to both of us, except as she was jealously watchful that I

win not too much of the love of her little sister. I have never seen

such love from elder to younger as there was from Catherine

Cavendish to her half-sister Mary after the little one had lost her

mother. And all that the little maid did, whether of work or play,

was with an eye toward the other's approbation, especially after the

advent of her grandmother. Catherine had lovers, but she would have

none of them. It seemed as if the maternal love of which most maids

feel the unknown and unspelled yearning, and which, perchance, may

draw them all unwittingly to wedlock, had seized upon Catherine

Cavendish, and she had, as it were, fulfilled it by proxy by this

love of her young sister, and so had her heart made cold toward all

lovers. Be that as it may, though she was much sought after by more

than one of high degree, she remained as she was.