Chapter 4

THROWING THINGS INTO CONFUSION

Prudence declares that whenever a person is in that disagreeable
situation which compels him to ask "what shall I do?" that the wisest
answer is, "nothing." But such answer did not satisfy George Hyde. He
was too young, too sure of his own good fortune, too restless and
impulsive, to accept Prudence as a councillor. He might have considered,
that, hitherto, affairs had happened precisely as he wished them; and
that it would be good policy to trust to his future opportunities. But
he was so much in earnest, so honestly in love, that he felt his doubts
and anxieties could only be relieved by action. Sympathy, at least, he
must have; and he knew no man, to whom he would willingly talk of
Cornelia. The little jests and innuendoes sure to follow his confidence
would be intolerable if associated with a creature so pure and so
ingenuous.

"I will go to my mother!" he thought. And this resolution satisfied him
so well, that he carried it out at once. But it was after dark when he
reached the tall stone portals of Hyde Manor House. The ride, however,
had given him back his best self. For when we leave society and come
into the presence of Nature, we become children again; and the fictions
of thought and action assumed among men drop off like a garment. The
beauty of the pale green hills, and the flowing river, and the budding
trees, and the melody of birds singing as if they never would grow old,
were all but charming accessories and horizons to his constant pictures
of Cornelia. It was she who gave life and beauty to all he saw; for as a
rule, if men notice nature at all, it is ever through some painted
window of their own souls. Few indeed are those who hear--

"The Ancient Word,
That walked among the silent trees."

Yet Hyde was keenly conscious of some mystical sympathy between himself
and the lovely scenes through which he passed--conscious still more of
it when the sun had set and the moon rose--dim and inscrutable--over the
lonely way, and filled the narrow glen which was at the entrance to the
Manor House full of brooding power.

The great building loomed up dark and silent; there was but one light
visible. It was in his mother's usual sitting-room, and as soon as he
saw it, he began to whistle. She heard him afar off, and was at the door
to give him a welcome.

"Joris, my dear one, we were talking of you!" she cried, as he leaped
from the saddle to her arms. "So glad are we! Come in quickly! Such a
good surprise! It is our hearts' wish granted! Well, are you? Quite
well? Now, then, I am happy. Happy as can be! Look now, Richard!" she
called, as she flung the door open, and entered with the