CHAPTER VI.

"Beauty provoketh Thieves sooner than Gold."

AS YOU LIKE IT.

The day was fine, and Algernon in high sprightliness and bloom, while his delighted mother, stimulated by the opportunity of comparison which now presented itself, secretly doubted in the pride of her heart that any "mortal mixture of Earth's mould" could furnish such a specimen of infant grace, as feasted her raptured eyes whenever they rested on her darling, who had now attained the fifth anniversary of his birth. Arrived at the Gipsey encampment, the party from Henbury descended from their carriage and approached a crazy tent, the back of which was turned towards the road by which our visitors had arrived at Hazle-moor. Mrs. Hartland, snatching her boy's hand, pressed eagerly forward, seeking with all her eyes, in every direction, for the little Zorilda. A group of rustic looking children were at play in front of the tent, and Mrs. Hartland darted into the midst of the circle, but not seeing any thing attractive in the coarse physiognomy of these youthful boors, she was seized with sudden alarm lest the object of her curiosity had been borne away by some fortunate rival, in the very scheme which she was herself meditating at that moment.

While she paused, not perceiving any grown person to whom she could direct an enquiry, a woman came running from a little distance and called out, "the Spanish child is here, Ma'am, please to walk this way." So saying, she conducted the party to the distance of a few hundred yards, till they reached a great mound of peat which had been piled together by the peasants of the country for firing, and formed a main source of incitement to the gipsies in selecting this spot for their temporary encampment.

The woman preceded, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Hartland, Algernon, and his nurse, and as they turned round the corner of the peat-rick, they were arrested with astonishment at sight of the perfection of human loveliness which burst upon their impatient view. Nothing, which was ever fashioned in the laboratory of Nature in her most plastic mood, could surpass the exquisite beauty of the cherub who lay fast asleep upon a cushion of newly gathered heath, the rich purple blossoms of which, mingling with curls of glossy jet, seemed to breathe their perfumes in token of grateful pleasure, as the mountain breeze playing amongst the tender branches wafted their delicate sprays across the infant's polished brow, as if to guard the little angel from the sun's too fervid beams.

Mr. and Mrs. Hartland gazed in silent rapture, but Algernon's transports were not so easily repressed; and Zorilda was wakened by the inconsiderate demonstration of his joy at sight of her. The pretty creature started from her fragrant pillow, and, frightened by the presence of strangers, opened wide the most splendid dark eyes, which till then had been reposing within their silken curtains, and, looking wildly round, stretched her dimpled arms towards the gipsey woman, to whose features she was accustomed; but ere the movement was finished, her attention was caught by the little boy, and springing forward to him, these charming children were in an instant locked in each other's embraces.

Mrs. Hartland's tears bespoke the feelings of her heart, and the gipsey woman, desirous to heighten the effect of the scene by flattery, assured her that the little Spaniard had never before exhibited such sensibility to a stranger.

The children played together with a kid which had attached itself to Zorilda, and lay cropping the stray sprigs of her flowery couch while she slept. As Mrs. Hartland retired back a few paces to indulge her emotion, the young Spaniard fancied that she was going away, and seizing her hand, pointed to Algernon with a look of deep anxiety, crying, in the sweetest possible accent, "Lady, no, no go." The spell was now firmly bound around the mother's affection, and she resolved, that if money could purchase the child, she would not return home without Zorilda. Mr. Hartland was in the habit, as has been stated, of yielding to every suggestion of his wife, whose prudence he respected as much as he admired her wisdom; and as he doted on his son, in common with her, and was as much delighted with Zorilda as Mrs. Hartland could possibly be, he entered warmly into the idea of securing such a treasure of companionship for Algernon, and set about negotiating the purchase with all the zeal of one who wished to succeed.

The husband of the gipsey woman returned ere long, and much time did not elapse before a bargain was concluded, the terms of which were, that the child should accompany the party to Henbury, leaving the best part of her little wardrobe behind, and fifty guineas were to be exchanged for her in cash. The gipsies were in reality very anxious to sell the infant, as, though the avidity of gain rendered them desirous to exhibit her for profit, they suffered continual uneasiness from the dread of her being claimed. They had, it is true, stolen her in a distant part of the kingdom, and reached Hazle-moor by forced marches and by intricate bye ways; but much farther concealment could not be hoped for, and the mere loss of their booty was not the worst which these lawless plunderers apprehended. They would be punished for the flagrant violation of the laws which they had committed, and therefore gladly availed themselves of the first offer to take the little girl off their hands for a pecuniary price.

The business was arranged, and Zorilda, who clung with the greatest solicitude to her new acquaintance, as if she felt it more natural as well as agreeable to associate with them than her late masters, was put into the carriage. Algernon followed, and Mrs. Hartland was just raising her foot to the step, when Zorilda's kid made a spring, and took precedence most ungallantly of the lady. The children were charmed with nanny-goat's agility, clasped it in their arms, and begged that it might be left with them. Half a guinea settled this second sale, and the happy family drove away; Mr. Hartland having stipulated to redeem his promissory note on the next market-day at the Tholsel, and an engagement having been agreed to by the wandering horde, that no enquiries should ever be made by any of them again concerning the Spanish foundling.

"Who _can_ this little darling be?" said Mrs. Hartland. It was in vain that she catechised the child. "Zoé," was the only reply to the question, however frequently repeated, of "what is your name?"

The little stranger speedily adopted the sounds of "papa and mamma," the happy children lived in each other's smiles, unconscious that a time might ever come when joy should be exchanged for grief; and what is more extraordinary, such is the contraction of a selfish spirit, parents who ought to have been able to take a wider survey of causes and effects, were satisfied with present expediency, and resolved that futurity should shift for itself.

Time rolled on; the same lessons, the same amusements, occupied the opening minds of Algernon and Zorilda; yet in reality how dissimilar was the education which they received! Admired, and even cherished as was the latter, she was in point of fact a purchased slave, while the former was the hope, the promise, the prop, and pillar of his father's house. As we have never obtained a phrenological survey of these childrens' heads, we shall not say any thing of original configuration with reference to faculties and positions, nor fraudulently entrap our readers into a new edition of Locke on the human understanding, when they expect to find a narrative relating to individuals and events. It suffices us as faithful biographers to state that, while Algernon was theoretically informed, Zorilda was practically instructed; and as early impressions are generally conceived to possess considerable influence on subsequent character, we hope to be pardoned for briefly describing the opposite results of two systems essentially different from each other. Were the children at their meals? Algernon was told that good boys were never greedy, but he was always helped first. Were the little friends at play? Algernon often heard that the eldest, who had most sense, should always give up, and "the young gentleman yield to the young lady." Yet Algernon who was selfish, contended, conquered, and was never reprimanded. He was _recommended_ to be polite, but the little Zorilda was _commanded_ to bring him whatever he wanted. Matters in short were so managed, or rather mismanaged, that _words_ were employed with one, and _actions_ with the other; _shadows_ were the portion of Algernon, while all the _substance_ of discipline was bestowed on Zorilda.

As the children advanced they read the same books, they were taught by the same masters, they learned the same accomplishments, but literary or ornamental acquirement is only the surface of education. The foundation of character, such as forms the real distinction between individuals of the human species, must be laid in the heart, and whether a man is the blessing or the curse of that society in which he possesses influence in after life, generally depends upon the practical nature of those views by which his natural propensities are regulated, his vicious tendencies repressed, and every noble, virtuous indication strengthened and encouraged. Profession is not principle; saying is not doing; and the fruits will correspond with the methods pursued in training the youthful mind. Algernon and Zorilda doted on each other, but the former loved himself better than his little companion. He could not endure her absence, but it was because her sweet temper, cheerful acquiescence and inventive talents, increased the measure of his enjoyment by constant study to please, and perpetual variety in the means of amusement. Zorilda's affection on the contrary was unadulterated by the alloy of selfishness. She could not imagine pleasure separate from the happiness of those who were dear to her little heart. Though her childish sports lost all their charm when Algernon did not share them, she would at any moment endeavour to promote his gratification by the sacrifice of her own; and employed her irresistible eloquence in furthering the indulgence of a ride upon the favourite pony at Mr. Hartland's side, which would deprive her of all she valued till the return of her beloved play-fellow from his excursion.

At length arrived the important hour of decision upon the long agitated question of a public school or a private tutor; and the latter was agreed upon. Mr. Playfair's credentials were unexceptionable, and he commenced his course with every prospect of mutual liking. He was a middle-aged man, of pleasing manners, and an excellent scholar; but as he was given to understand that no moral instruction was required at his hands, he soon learned to desist from interfering with a department placed beyond the bounds of his jurisdiction.

"I would not allow any mortal," said Mrs. Hartland, "to supersede me in the pleasing task of forming the mind and manners of my son;" and we have already seen how she was qualified for the work which she determined on executing without substitute or auxiliary.

Algernon wept over the Latin Grammar, and chiefly, because he did not see any one else condemned to the labours which were inflicted on him.

"Why does not Mr. Playfair make Zoé as unhappy as I am, and give her this hard lesson to get by heart?" said the boy, as he sobbed upon his mother's breast.

Zoé was also drowned in tears; but it was because Algernon was afflicted, and her question, urged in the softest tenderest accent, was, "Oh, why may not I learn his lesson? I will then teach it to him."

These two short and simple queries furnish the clue by which to follow the entire labyrinth of these childrens' course. Mr. Playfair, who was charmed with Zorilda's beauty and docility, readily undertook to aid her generous purpose, by becoming her tutor, to which Mrs. Hartland willingly consented; "_not_ that Greek and Latin," said she, "are necessary for a young lady, but as dear Zoé, who in point of fact is _nobody_, much as we love her, may turn all that we can do for her to future account, she may now be made useful to Algernon as well as herself, by sharing _all_ his labours."

This fiat, though pronounced in an under voice, struck on Zorilda's ear and attention. She was now only six years old, but the remarkable acuteness of her sensibility, as well as understanding, rendered a thousand appeals to both, which were beyond the reach of much older children, comprehensible to her young mind; and the word _nobody_ suffused her expressive countenance with a blush of deepest die. She had often heard the question asked, "Who is she?" "Zoé," was her only reply, and she had never tarried to hear another answer. This _nobody_ perplexed her little heart, and, running into the arms of Mrs. Hartland, she buried her glowing face in the bosom of her protectress.

"What do you mean, dear Mamma? sure Algernon is somebody; and though I am younger, is not Zoé somebody too? we are both _your_ children."

Mrs. Hartland sighed, and, caressing the child, disengaged herself from the tender pressure, while a "Yes, my love," hastily uttered as she left the room, had the effect of brushing away the tear which, at Zoé's age, "is dried as soon as shed."

Mr. Playfair was a man of distinguished learning, but he possessed qualities of much rarer character than scholarship. He was a man of strong sense and deep feeling.

Mrs. Hartland on quitting the room had given him a look of intelligence, which he understood, and following her to another apartment, he listened, for the first time, to the history of Zorilda's introduction at Henbury.

When the story was finished, Mr. Playfair ventured to suggest a hint of future inconvenience from this lovely child's domestication in the family.

"A day will come," added he, "in which the truth _must_ be revealed, and I foresee at least the possibility of great misery and embarrassment."

Selfish people seldom take long views even for themselves, but happily for the rest of mankind, are generally so uncompromising and precipitate in endeavouring to compass their ends, as to put others on their defence, and enable them sometimes to counteract, always to anticipate the bearing of an illiberal spirit, intent on its own exclusive gratification.

Mr. Playfair possessed discrimination, and took in at a glance the entire _carte du pays_. Though the little Zorilda was affectionately treated at Henbury, he clearly perceived that she would be unrelentingly sacrificed to the interests of ambition, and shaken off without any attention to her feelings whenever a period arrived in which it might be deemed prudent to get rid of her; but she was an unfriended orphan, and to snatch her from present positive good in order to avoid future contingent evil, might perhaps have been scarcely justifiable, even though ability to do so had seconded inclination. In Mr. Playfair's case it was impossible. He had no resources, and was a single man. All that his situation permitted, he determined on contributing for the benefit of his interesting charge, and never were exertions more fully repaid. Zorilda's talents were of the first order, and what is not usual, the solidity of her understanding equalled its extraordinary quickness. She learned with surprising facility, and discovered such a thirst for knowledge, that, never satisfied with superficial glimmerings, she loved to probe the depths of every subject which lay open to her pursuit.

Algernon's sloth bore strict proportion to Zorilda's industry, of which he knew how to reap the profit in a manner most congenial to his taste. Certain of having his exercise written, and his translation parsed by the companion of his studies, before she looked at her own task, he gave himself as little trouble as possible; but, aware that the measure of his idleness must continually depend on that of Zoé's diligence and application, he encouraged in her what he neglected in his own instance, and thus was instrumental in assisting Mr. Playfair's benevolent design of storing the mind of the young unknown against the hour of adversity. Whatever was the subject of instruction, Zorilda's intuitive clearness of perception anticipated the labours of her tutor, and she actually learned faster than he could teach; yet vanity was a stranger to her young heart. Conscious of ignorance, while she sought information, it appeared to her nothing extraordinary that she should understand what the wisdom of others supplied: she transferred all honour to her instructor, and as Mr. Playfair had too sincere an interest in the welfare of his pupil to flatter her, our little heroine passed her early spring of life without guessing that her talents exceeded the common faculties of her fellow-creatures. Algernon breathed, on the contrary, an atmosphere of continual praise, with which his injudicious mother endeavoured to stimulate his progress. The two children might be compared to plants, the one of which put forth its sickly bloom in the artificial soil of a hot-bed; while the other, fanned by the breezes, and fertilized by the dews of heaven, flourished in full luxuriance of natural strength and beauty; but as the gardener, who digs, prunes, trains, and waters, is the only person interested in the gradual unfolding of those "leafy honours," which it is enough for the casual visitor to see fully developed, we shall now draw a curtain over the scene of budding hopes; or, if we may be allowed to conclude our present Chapter with another simile, we will dive like the wild sea bird into the ocean of time, on the surface of which we have been slowly sailing, and hiding beneath the billows for a season, start up anew after a temporary submersion.