"And so you know nothing of this gentleman beyond what he has told
you of his character and antecedents?"
Aunt Rachel had knocked at the door of her nephew's study after
dinner, on the day of his return, and asked for an interview.
"Although I know you must be very busy with your accounts, and so
forth, having been away from the plantation for so long," she said,
deprecatingly, yet accepting the invitation to enter.
Mr. Aylett's eye left hers as he replied that he was quite at
liberty to listen to whatever she had to say, but his manner was
entirely his own--polished and cool.
Family tradition had it that he was naturally a man of strong
passions and violent temper, but since his college days, he had
never, as far as living mortal could testify, lifted the impassive
mask he wore, at the bidding of anger, surprise, or alarm. He ran
all his tilts--and he was not a non-combatant by any means--with
locked visor. In person, he was commanding in stature; his features
were symmetrical; his bearing high-bred. His conversation was
sensible, but never brilliant or animated. In his own household he
was calmly despotic; in his county, respected and unpopular--one of
whom nobody dared speak ill, yet whom nobody had reason to love.
There was a single person who believed herself to be an exception to
this rule. This was his sister Mabel. Some said she worshipped him
in default of any other object upon which she could expend the
wealth of her young, ardent heart; others, that his strong will
enforced her homage. The fact of her devotion was undeniable, and
upon his appreciation of this Aunt Rachel built her expectations of
a favorable hearing when she volunteered to prepare the way for Mr.
Chilton's formal application for the hand of her nephew's ward.
Between herself and Winston there existed little real liking and
less affinity. She was useful to him, and his tolerance of her
society was courteous, but she understood perfectly that he secretly
despised many of her views and actions, as, indeed, he did those of
most women. Her present mission was undertaken for the love she bore
Mabel and her sister. It was not kind to send the girl to tell her
own story. It was neither kind nor fair to subject their guest to
the ordeal of an unheralded disclosure of his sentiments and
aspirations, with the puissant lord of Ridgeley as sole auditor.
"Fred would never get over the first impression of your brother's
chilling reserve," said the self-appointed envoy to Mabel, when she
insisted that her affianced would plead his cause more eloquently
than a third person could. "For, you, must confess, my love, that
Winston, although in most respects a model to other young men, is
unapproachable by strangers."