CHAPTER LIV.

THE LAST VISIT TO THE TOWER.

Latimer and Ellen visited the scene of their early attachment but once after their long and happy sojourn in Gloucestershire; and, singular enough, that once was to convey to a distant relative, of the name of Goodynge, the estate of Freston, for which he had, with earnest solicitation and very liberal offers, made repeated application.

Ralphe Goodynge, or Gooding, one of the oldest inhabitants of Ipswich, distantly connected with the family of De Freston on the female side, soon after the purchase of Freston, represented the borough of Ipswich, in conjunction with John Sparrowe. It was owing to his liberality that the Tower itself remained one of the pleasantest features of the Orwell, and the place of happy resort for many a wedding party.

In his day it became a sort of privilege for the townsmen of Ipswich to take a marriage trip to Freston Tower. Its pleasant distance from the town, the lovely park in which it then stood, and the still memorable record of the Lady Ellen, and her faithful Latimer, made 'Latimer's Tower,' a bye-word for conjugal felicity. The wonder is, that it should ever have lost this celebrity.

Whether it was that, in the lapse of years, the park became arable land, and lost the traces of hereditary grandeur, or that other possessors succeeded, who did not encourage this right of the free burgesses, and their espousals, the old distich was forgotten which said:

'No burgess on his wedding-day, Which falls in whitethorn merry May, Shall happy be in house or bower, Who does not visit Freston Tower.'

For many years, a venerable old couple of the name of Sage, who had been attached to the family of the Latimers, resided in the lower compartment of the Tower, and with the assistance of their two daughters kept the rooms in such order, that it was said:

'The Sages differ in their ages, But all our hearts with love engage; We pay the Sages marriage wages, That we in age may be like Sage.

It was to the house of this old couple, that Latimer and Ellen went after they had conveyed the estate to Mr. Ralphe Goodynge, and paid their last visit to the tower of love. Memory, fresh, clear, and hallowed, can never forget the spot where the enjoyment of that sweet thought, the making another happy, was first imbibed. Whatever cares may arise, whatever troubles may have come upon us, and however much the realities of this dull world, and its daily ploddings, may have made us creatures of circumstances, we still remember, with a holiness never to be effaced, the spot of our first love.

Let stoics say what they will, or mortals without natural affection break every trace of love, every honest man, who had a heart of natural affection in his youth, cannot fail to recal, with satisfaction, the remembrance of that spot where he first became betrothed.

The soldier may have to visit foreign countries; the ambassador, foreign courts; the lawyer, courts of law; the trader, foreign ports; even the Missionary, foreign stations; the Bishop, distant sees; no man, let him be called to whatever employment he may, and be compelled therein to forsake the scenes of his early youth, can fail sometimes to remember the associations of that day, when he first ventured even to think of that partner, with whom he may have afterwards passed the meridian of life.

Everything tends to sanctify the spot. The very duties of life, in which his daily occupations may have engrossed his time, are often broken in upon by the remembrance thereof. The more mental those duties may have been, either in law, physic, or divinity, the keener or clearer will be the reflection or vision of the past. None but those whose hearts are completely given up to the idolatry of money, can forget the place of friendship,

'Where bold and brave, and modest, pure, and bland, He sought love's friendship both with heart and hand.'

Let his calling be ever so high and sacred, there is no sin in looking back upon that spot and those thoughts of days gone by, though he may well know that he can never enjoy them again. He may even feel thankful that he never can. He may never even desire so to do, and yet never undervalue the heavenly permission which then sanctioned his betrothment, and witnessed his espousals.

If the dear place be gone from him; if others possess it; if fathers, mothers, brothers, and friends, who smiled upon our days of love, and shared their freedom with us, be all departed--can we forget them? No! memory is vivid in love. But are there no sorrows commingled therewith? no remembrances of mortal heart-burnings, affronts, failings, differences, wants of temper, accusations, or disputations? Smooth must have flowed the channel of life, if nothing of this kind can be remembered. But if they can, and the God of mercy has softened the heart with tears of repentance for those past, unruly, or discordant intruders, let not the honest lover repine or despair, that he cannot alter the past. His love is true, though the very earth may banish him from the spot.

But what sensations crept over Latimer and the Lady Ellen as they stood at the foot of the Tower, for the last time!

'Philosophers maintain, dearest husband, that we ought not to encourage any of those sensations which touch upon the melancholy moments of the past. They would have us shake off the memory of anything in which we have once delighted; but they appear to me to think there is no pleasure at all in reflection. Now, though sorrow may sadden the present moment, there is a species of unalloyed pleasure in the remembrance of those days, and in revisiting those scenes where we once imbibed the happiness of conversation with those we loved. What say you, dearest husband?'

'Say, my love, that no hours can be sweeter than those so employed, saving, shall I say, those of which we speak; but would not that be ungrateful? We cannot go back again except in thought; we cannot retread the steps we have trodden years ago with the same objects we then had in view; but that is no reason why we should encourage bitterness in our souls, unless we have some bitter accusations of conscience to afflict us. I do not remember even the building of this Tower with any regret. Here it stands; the object of its erection was one of regard, dearest Ellen, for thyself; but if thou art not more esteemed by me than the Tower, or the domain around it, then should I deeply regret, perhaps, the surrender of our right and title to the estate.'

'I thank thee, dearest--I thank thee; and yet thou canst not quite feel as I may do the vivid recollections of a father's love. I think of him who loved me with a tenderness which seemed to be the deeper because of my mother's early loss. Ah! Latimer, he was as a father and a mother unto me!'

'But he can be no longer such, dearest Ellen, and neither art thou so situated as to require it. The wind was tempered to the shorn lamb.'

'And so is it now; and I do not complain. I do but think; and, as we learn to part with childish trifles without regret as we grow in years, so, dearest husband, must we learn to part with things to which our affections become more attached, inasmuch as they are more powerful objects of attraction.'

'Yes, Ellen, and the more submissively to the Divine will we school our hearts in the course of our journey, the less those pangs of parting afflict us, and the sweeter are our hopes of rest. The mansion itself, which held its lord, is gone; the Tower alone remains. It has lasted until thy father's generation and name are gone, and, in the lapse of a few years more, even the memory of ourselves, and of all we have seen and known here, must pass away.'

'But thou hast not forgotten the stipulation that, as long as the Tower can stand, it shall be preserved.'

'No, our friend Ralphe Goodynge has guaranteed that thou shalt have full right and title, as long as he holds the estate, to a resident, rent-free therein, whomsoever thou mayst appoint, and that he will pay a certain monthly dole unto any person or persons inhabiting the spot, to keep the rooms and furniture in cleanly order for thyself or for thy friends, during the term of thy natural life.

'He binds himself, moreover, to keep the said Tower an repair during his possession of the estate, and that as long as the name of Latimer can be remembered in Ipswich, it shall be designated "_Latimer's Tower_." So you see, dearest, we shall still have a name and a possession on the banks of the Orwell.'

'Why this should be such a pleasure to me, thou msyest easily guess. Not that we shall often revisit this spot, yet when we speak thereof, the thought of having friends to whom our early days were known, and the father and mother of our faithful servant still resident herein, will be pleasant to us, though we may be away from them. Does Ralphe Goodynge bind his successors?'

'No, not beyond the possession of his right and title to the estate; and this I think but fair. He has no objection, as a relative, to make this spot a pleasant place of remembrance both for friendship and affection's sake; but he will not undertake to bind upon others that which he conceives only to concern himself. I do not think this unreasonable. It is not, Ellen, as if it were a place of public resort, or a place dedicated to any special purpose, either to religion or to the administration of justice, or even to public entertainment. It was built for thee, and unless in future generations it could be devoted to similar purposes, and that is not likely, for it is not his intention to rebuild the mansion, I see no reason why he should be expected to preserve it. There will not be another Ellen De Freston to inhabit it.'

Whether this was gratifying or not to Ellen, she did not reply, but, with a sigh, she leaned upon her husband's arm, as they entered the Tower. There are feelings, sensations, ideas, thoughts, and reflections, which cannot be spoken, and perhaps are never less able to be uttered than when we feel perfectly conscious that we have, even near to us as life, a being who can fully appreciate all we might express. A sigh, if it could be defined, would speak perhaps an eloquence as yet unknown.

There is a spirit speaking in a sigh Which words convey not unto human ears. That which it is not, mortal tongues may speak: That which it is, no words were ever found To give its meaning to the list'ning world. The world!--oh no! the world would never hear The sigh of pure affection in the soul, Contrition's sigh, or aspiration's sound, The wish for things unseen, though not unfelt The thought of being perfect, or of hope Of gaining that perfection which delights In joyful innocence, of bliss untold-- I speak not of the sigh of deep regret For sins innumerable--groans, indeed! Unutterable groans those sighs become. And well become the guilty hearts of men; And if sincere, the Comforter will come With holy calmness to the troubled soul, And give it peace. There is a sigh for bliss-- Yes, seraph's blissfulness--to speak with those With whom we held communion on earth, On things of Heaven--can that sigh be told? No, 'tis the thought of immaterial light, Brighter than sun's most fervid-glowing ray, In clearest atmosphere of brilliant day.

We may suppose such a sigh to have escaped the heart at Ellen, as she entered the Tower, where she had spent so many happy hours with her affectionate father. It was Latimer's care to improve even those moments of meditation with the language of truth, and his masculine mind then showed itself well worthy of the admiration Ellen had given it. Never perhaps did she feel or own him to be her lord and master so powerfully as during the short converse they had in the favorite room of their favorite Tower.

To strengthen the human mind with words of pious resignation; to point to the wisdom displayed for human reformation and human happiness, was then the duty, and the pleasure, and the comfort of a humble, honest-hearted husband. Perhaps some would sigh to hear that conversation; perhaps it might instruct and improve many a human heart. Let only the effects be told.

Latimer and Ellen descended the steps of the Tower even happier than they ascended; for whilst, like many a faithful couple in this world, descending into the vale of years, conscious of ten thousand blessings which they received, for which they can only be thankful, even whilst they own themselves unworthy thereof, so their calm spirits ascend higher as their years descend. So did Latimer and Ellen proceed on their way to the cottage. At that cottage they learnt a lesson such as they never forgot, which made even this visit to the Tower memorable to their last days.