Chapter V: Part 5

Roseline, extremely agitated, made an attempt to speak, which Sir Philip observing, said, "Attend to me a few moments longer, my dear; I will then give you leave to express your joyful surprise at the good fortune which awaits you.--My noble friend, from the very first moment of seeing you, loved, and wished to make you his own: he, like a man of honour, inquired if your heart was disengaged; I assured him it was, for I knew you too well, my dear girl, to suppose you would ever dispose of it without a father's sanction. Eager to possess a treasure which had never strayed from its own spotless mansion, he then requested my permission to become a candidate for your favour. I readily and freely gave it, and encouraged him to hope he would meet neither with caprice nor opposition; at the same time I candidly told him, that, though my fortune was upon the whole considerable, yet, as my family was large and still might increase, my daughter's portions could be but small,--so very small, that I feared it would prove an impediment to your union. He generously overlooked this objection, and wishes only to gain your heart and hand; while the share you would be entitled to have of your father's property he requests may be given among the rest of my family, and he will make an equal settlement upon you, as if you brought him a large fortune. Indeed, so noble and disinterested were his proposals, that they both gratified and astonished me: they are such as no parent could receive with indifference,--no young woman refuse. The Baron has not only a princely fortune, but a princely spirit, and such unbounded interest, that my Roseline will not only secure rank and splendor to herself, but will prove the fortunate means of obtaining them for her brothers and sisters, and of making the last closing scenes of her parents' days happier and freer from care than they have ever been."

Ah! thought Roseline, and her own irretrievably wretched; for, among all the treasures to be purchased by this unnatural union, happiness is not included. She sighed deeply, and, without looking up, remained silent.

Sir Philip, rather alarmed at the alteration in her countenance, which changed from being extremely flushed to the most deadly paleness; and, observing a tear stealing down her cheeks, still appeared determined to think he should find no difficulty in over-ruling any little objection she might venture to make. He put one hand into her's, and the other round her waist, and again addressing her, said, "He did not wonder that an offer so splendid and noble should affect and overpower a spirit humble and unassuming as her's. I always knew the inestimable value of the Baron's friendship, and am equally sensible of the rich prize I possess in a daughter; but I never dared to cherish the grateful hope that I should live to see two persons on whom I depended for so large a portion of my happiness united, or that a child of De Morney's was to repay the noble Baron for his generosity to her father."

"For heaven's sake! my dear dear father, (cried the almost fainting Roseline,) do not thus seem to misunderstand the nature of feelings entitled to your tenderest pity.--I never, never can love the Baron!"

Sir Philip hastily arose; fury flashed from his eyes; every feature was beginning to be convulsed with passion, but he struggled against the rage he wished to subdue, while she continued,--"Consider my extreme youth; contrast it with the age of your friend;--can I be a fit or eligible wife for a man older than my father?--Would not that be to punish most severely the man for whom, so far from loving, I have ever felt an invincible dislike, which sometimes I have thought, if he stayed much longer at the castle, would increase to aversion."

Sir Philip, who had neither expected to meet nor was prepared to encounter an opposition so determined, was no longer able to keep his passion within bounds.

"Roseline, (cried he, striking his clenched fist on the table, and looking with the wildness of a maniac,) dare not presume to cherish, or to avow, a dislike which will not only plunge a dagger into your mother's heart, but rob you of a father. What business can a girl of your age have to like or dislike but as your parents shall direct?--Give them up for ever, or accept the Baron!--How will you reconcile yourself to become an alien to your family?--how relish spending your days in a nunnery, instead of enjoying liberty and every pleasure in the gay sunshine of a court, glittering with diamonds, surrounded by admirers, equal in rank and superior in fortune to many of our most ancient nobility?--Consider well before you determine. To enable you to conquer your diffidence, or caprice, on month I will give you;--one month I will allow to the struggles of maiden bashfulness, or the wayward humour of your sex. Yet hear at once my final resolution. If, during that period, you either alarm or disgust the Baron by your folly or ignorance, so as to make him repent the noble overtures he had made to secure an alliance with my family,--or if you attempt to damp the ardour of his passion by your coldness,--if at the end of that period you do not, without any visible reluctance, accept him as a lover, and promise to give him your hand, I will instantly send you into a convent of the severest order, and compel you to take the veil."

Roseline, overpowered by his manner, fell on the floor in a state of insensibility.--Her father now saw he had gone too far; he was alarmed; but, much as he felt himself distressed, he too well knew what he was about, to call for assistance; he therefore, by the usual methods, endeavoured to recover her as well as he could, and, as soon as he saw her revive, soothed her hurried spirits with every fond attention, addressed her by the tenderest appellations, and begged her to have pity on him and on herself.

Roseline, too much terrified to contend farther at that time, heard him with silent despondency, and hoped the cruel contest would be ended by her death; for, as she never before had fainted she imagined it was a prelude to her dissolution. Sir Phillip, to reconcile her, if possible, to his ambitious views, argued the matter with that sophistry and art which in all ages have been practised with too much success; assured her of every flattering indulgence that a youthful heart could desire desire,--painted her future prospects in colours most likely to captivate the attention and ensnare the senses; and even went so far as to promise, till the end of the month, he would not mention the Baron's name to her again, but insisted on her receiving his attentions with complacency, and desired her not to make a confidant of any one in a matter of so much importance: he likewise informed her, he had forbidden her mother's talking to her on the subject, and concluded this painful interview with telling her, he trusted her gentleness, duty, and affection, would determine her to oblige and gratify her anxious and tender father in the first and most prevailing wishes of his heart. He recommended her to retire to her own room, and promised to find a proper excuse for her absence. After leading her to the door of his apartment, he embraced and left her.

Sir Philip de Morney, though in many respects a kind father and a good husband, was proud and aspiring. These passions, as he advanced in years, gained additional ascendancy over his mind, and as he saw his children approaching that period when it became necessary to think of an establishment for them, he was more and more anxious to see them placed among the great.

His lady, equally attached to the fascinating influence of birth and splendor, had neither inclination nor power to counteract his designs, nor to dispute with him on a point to which her own wishes tended. She was too partial, too fond of her children not to think they were calculated to shine in the most exalted situations, and that they deserved every blessing, every indulgence which rank of fortune could bestow. She had married a man much older than herself, and was happy; therefore she saw no reasonable objection in the difference of age between her daughter and the Baron, whose birth carried an irresistible passport to her heart.

Sir Philip had talked the matter over with her, and, with that prevailing influence he had ever retained, brought her not only to consent to any measures he should find necessary to adopt in order to carry his point, but obtained a solemn promise from her to conceal from Edwin, and every one else, the sanguine establishment of their daughter.--The fact was, Sir Philip had at different periods of his life received many favours, and some of a pecuniary nature, from the Baron, which had never been settled, and had it not been for the assistance of the Baron's purse, he must have deeply mortgaged his estates to carry on the law-suit, which, without the interest of his friend, would at last have terminated against him. It was in consequence of their unexpected meeting in town that he prevailed upon him, with some difficulty, to return with him to the castle.

What ensued was so much beyond the most flattering expectations he had ever dared to cherish, that the feelings of the parent were sacrificed to ambition, and he instantly determined to carry his point, let the consequence be what it would; and, though he had observed, in the whole of Roseline's behaviour to his friend, convincing proofs of that dislike which she had in her interview with him avowed, yet he did not despair of gaining his purpose: he was aware that he might find some little opposition to his wishes, and therefore to guard as cautiously as possible against disappointments, he had more than once represented to the Baron the youth, inexperience, and extreme timidity, of his daughter, and the terror she would feel at being separated from a mother from whom she had never been absent.

By such wary precautions as these he had prevailed upon his friend to postpone making any proposals to Roseline, till he had paved the way for a welcome reception. To such a plan a lover could not make any reasonable objection, particularly one who wished to have as little trouble as possible in the gratification of his desires.--Too proud, haughty, and fastidious, to pay his court, or make any sacrifice to the wayward humours of a young beauty, he secretly rejoiced that her father would take the whole upon himself; and, knowing how agreeable the offered alliance was to him, he had no fears but as soon as the young lady's consent was asked, she would be happy to comply; he therefore looked forwards with less impatience than he would have done, had any doubts rested upon his mind.

CHAP. X.

No sooner had Roseline reached her own apartment, and fastened the door, than she sunk on her knees, and having for some minutes given way to the severity of her feelings by tears and lamentations, she recovered sufficient resolution to supplicate her Maker to support and direct her in this trying hour of distress. By degrees she became more composed, and sat down to reflect on her situation with less agitation and terror. Her father had promised her, and she knew his promise would be held sacred, that she should indulged with one whole month to determine whether she would or would not accept the Baron: she was already determined, but she would avail herself of the few weeks allowed her to struggle with her feelings, and preserve the peace and tranquility of her family; besides, it was placing the dreaded evil at some distance, and that to one so wretched was obtaining a great deal. After the month was expired, (but to that dreadful moment she had not yet acquired fortitude to look,) she should still persist in her resolution; till then she would oblige her father all she could by quietly receiving the Baron's attentions; but she was resolved not to deceive him by appearing to receive them with pleasure.

Madeline came to spend the day as had been proposed. Edwin found many opportunities of renewing his vows, and of making some tender reproaches for her not seeing him so often as he wished by the subterranean passage, for which she assigned such prudent reasons, as served in some degree to quiet his apprehensions, which, however, were rather increased than abated by observing the marked and particular attention which was paid by De Willows, who, it was but too visible, cherished a growing passion in his bosom, which equally tortured Edeliza, Edwin, Madeline, and himself. Roseline generously determined not to interrupt the few hours of happiness and tranquillity which her friends seemed to enjoy, by giving them the most distant hint of her own internal misery.

They took an opportunity of visiting the prisoner. Madeline was received by him with the cordial affection of a brother, for she was the adopted sister of his beloved Roseline,--the chosen friend of her heart. With him they partook that soft intercourse of soul which gives to the human mind its highest and most perfect enjoyment. Without fear or restraint they addressed each other in the pure and unadulterated language of genuine tenderness, indulging in the innocent and fond endearments which the sincerity of virtuous love will claim, and with which its purest votaries might comply without a blush.

But how short and transitory appeared these fleeting moments (on which she thought old time had bestowed an additional pair of wings) to the agonized mind of the half-distracted Roseline! who, notwithstanding her father's prohibition, determined in the course of the month to inform her mother and brother of every circumstance that had occurred. She dreaded, more than she would to stroke of death, imparting to the unfortunate Walter (she had prevailed on Albert to tell her his Christian name) that he ad a rival, who, authorised by her father, would endeavour to separate them for ever; and more, much more than for herself, she trembled for that hapless, persecuted, unprotected lover, at whose bosom fate had already aimed some of its most pointed arrows, whose life would be endangered, should her partiality be discovered--that life on which her own seemed to depend: his happiness, which was dearer to her than her own, rested with her only to preserve; if they must be parted, the contest could not be extended beyond the confines of the grave, and in the friendly grave they should both find shelter.

The visible change, which appeared the next morning in the countenance and manners of Roseline, was such as those only who determined not to see could have avoided observing. Edwin, who met her as she was going to enter the breakfast-parlour, eagerly cried out, "For heaven's sake, my dear sister, what, in the name of ill-luck, has happened to you?--how long have you been ill?"

With tender earnestness she begged him not to mention her altered looks, promising to acquaint him with the cause the first convenient opportunity. He agreed to comply with her request, and neither Sir Philip nor Lady de Morney took any notice; and, when the Baron joined the breakfast-party, every thing passed as usual. He was very attentive to his fair enslaver, who, seeing her father's eye sternly fixed upon her from the moment the Baron entered the room, dared not to repel his odious gallantry with the coldness and contempt she knew not how to suppress; but she thought it better to yield submissively to the mortifications of the present hour, in order to secure to herself the short respite from certain misery, which upon such painful conditions had been allowed her.

As soon as breakfast was ended, the Baron and Sir Philip ordered their horses, and rode out to spend the day at some distance from the castle. Lady de Morney withdrew to give directions respecting some domestic arrangements, and the younger part of the family retired to go on with their usual employments. Edwin followed his sister to her own apartment, and eagerly requested her instantly to relieve his mind from the anxiety he could not help feeling on her account, as he was certain something unpleasant must have happened.

Gratified by this proof of his tenderness and attention to her happiness, Roseline, after a few painful struggles to suppress her agitation, and having obtained a solemn promise from her brother, that, however provoked, or whatever indignation he might feel when he became acquainted with her internal and hopeless misery, he would not betray by the most distant hint that she had disobeyed the positive injuctions of her father, informed him, with many tears, of the Baron's views in coming to the castle.

Edwin had long suspected something would arise from the frequent conferences of the Baron and his father, and the unusual reserve of his mother. He had likewise observed, with some degree of surprise, the very flattering and uncommon attentions paid to their noble visitor; he therefore was not so much astonished as his sister expected he would have been. He carefully avoided filling her mind with unnecessary alarms at the moment he felt a thousand fears on her account, and could not restrain his indignation at hearing a tale confirmed which appeared too absurd almost to be believed. He tenderly embraced, and vowed to protect her from such cruelty and oppression, should his father continue obstinately to insist on her giving her hand to a man she disliked.

He had long known her extreme partiality for the prisoner, which, though he could not approve, his own clandestine engagements with Madeline prevented his attempting to condemn. They had innocently and mutually assisted in bringing each other into situations which threatened them with many sorrows; they must now in this trying moment as resolutely determine to extricate themselves, and those they loved, from distresses which otherwise would in all probability overwhelm and destroy them.

Edwin, at Roseline's earnest request, was to inform Walter of the dangers which encompassed them, and of the formidable rival who had appeared to interrupt their happiness; but she insisted on his concealing from him the name of that rival, begging him not to give a hint of his fortune or consequence. Eager to save her lover from feeling such pangs as she herself had endured, she entreated he would soften the sad tidings he conveyed, by assuring him he had nothing to fear from herself, as her affection was equally tender and sincere.

When Edwin had imparted the unwelcome news to the prisoner, though he observed the strictest caution, and worded the heart-wounding communication in language best calculated to sooth and quiet those tormenting apprehensions, to which it would unavoidably give birth, the effect it had on the unhappy sufferer was dreadful. His agonies disclosed to the astonished Edwin the strength of an affection which, while it alarmed him, demanded the utmost pity; and, at that moment, had he possessed the power of disposing of the hand of his sister, he would sooner have presented it to his unfortunate friend than to the greatest monarch upon earth.

Roseline dared not venture to see him for several succeeding hours, and no sooner were his watchful and inpatient eyes gratified by her entrance into his solitary apartment, than he hastily arose; and, throwing himself at her feet, almost inarticulately entreated her to pronounce his doom.

"Tell me, (cried he,) if you, my only earthly treasure, must be wrested from me for ever?--if I must not longer hear the soft sound of that gentle voice, sweeter and more melodious than celestial music? I can die without reproaching, but I cannot exist without seeing you; and I will never, never live one hour after you have given your hand to another.--Madness and torture are united in that thought!--Let us fly,--let us leave this horrid castle!--The world is all before us: love shall be our guide. Surely we can find one little sacred spot that will shelter us from persecution and tyranny; if not, we can wander, beg, and at last die, together."

"Have patience, my generous, my beloved Walter, (cried the weeping Roseline;)--I yet trust we shall not be reduced to the hard, the degrading necessity of taking such desperate and improper steps to preserve our faith unbroken. Be assured of this, and endeavour to rest satisfied with a promise I will ever hold sacred,--that, while our continue the unrivalled possessor of my heart, only actual force shall compel me to give my had to your rival; and I think I may venture to say, if I know any thing of my father's disposition, unkind as it appears at present, he will never go to such unwarrantable and unnatural lengths to gratify an ambition I never suspected had found place in his mind."

"Ah! (said the prisoner) you little know, you cannot suspect to what lengths pride and ambition will carry unfeeling people. I am their victim, and if I thought you were to suffer as I have done--"

"Attempt not to think about it," interrupted Roseline.

"Consent then to escape this very night. If we stop to deliberate we are lost,--we are separated for ever! You know not what such love as mine, when called into action, and blest with liberty, would enable me to do, to preserve a treasure so dear and estimable. Albert would go with us: with his direction and assistance, surely we could procure sufficient from the bowels of the earth to support you in ease and plenty, if not in affluence."

The entrance of Albert luckily put an end to a conversation which was become too tender and painful for Roseline any longer to have kept up that appearance of composure which was absolutely necessary to quiet the tormenting apprehensions of her lover; she therefore immediately availed herself of the opportunity to quit his apartment, and retired to her own.

Within rather less than a week after Roseline's interview with her father, the alteration which took place in her was such as could not pass unobserved, but it was wholly imputed to indisposition. She became much thinner; the rose of health was fled from a countenance no longer marked with animation. She had no spirits, and was seldom seen to smile; even the playful fondness of her sister Bertha ceased to interest or entertain her.

Lady de Morney, who was a tender mother, became alarmed, and imparted her fears to Sir Philip, who endeavoured to laugh her out of them.

"The poor child (said he) is only a little mother-sick. She is pining, I suppose, at the thoughts of leaving mamma: you must therefore take no notice, for I so well know that softness of your disposition, that a few tears will mould you to her own wayward purposes, and deprive you of all your resolution. The unfortunate girl will, to be sure, be sadly hurt at becoming a baroness, and being placed in a situation to which even the proudest ambition of her parents could not have aspired. We, therefore, have only to remain silent spectators for a time, and leave the natural vanity of her sex, united with the sanguine wishes of youth, to operate for themselves. We will invite company to the castle; I mean to give a ball in compliment to the Baron:--Roseline will reign queen of the ceremony; assailed by flattery, softened by music, exhilirated by exercise, she will forget to sigh in the midst of gaiety, and cease to disapprove the Baron, when she begins to feel that consequence which the being noticed by a man of his rank will give to her."

"Let us then try the experiment as soon as possible, (replied Lady de Morney;) for I cannot help thinking, unless some change takes place for the better, our sweet Roseline, instead of bridal finery, will want only a winding sheet, and that she will be removed from the castle to her grave."

Sir Philip was displeased; he instantly left the room in order to avoid returning an answer which he well knew would have been succeeded by an altercation with his wife.--She saw he was angry, and therefore, though she was extremely anxious on her daughter's account, she determined for some time to remain a passive observer, let what would be the consequence; but she did not experience that serenity of mind at forming this resolution which she had done on some former occasions, when she had sacrificed her own will to that of her husband; for, aspiring as she was by nature, and much as she was always attached to the gaudy trappings of grandeur and the alluring sounds of title, she felt the life of her daughter, when put in competition with them, or even the throne itself, was of infinitely more importance.

De Huntingfield was at this time absent from the castle. Elwyn very seldom mixed with his brother officers; Elwyn very seldom mixed with his brother officers; therefore De Clavering, De Willows, and Hugh Camelford, were ofter left to mess by themselves, the Baron not appearing to like being much in their society. They were too young and too pleasing in his opinion, and, as he could not help sometimes making comparisons not much to his own advantage, it was natural for him to think the young ladies might do the same. As the three gentlemen were returning from a walk, they saw the Baron, Sir Philip, his son, and daughters, going out for one. Observing the apparent reluctant step and pale countenance of Roseline, as she walked by the side of her stately and venerable over, and having picked up some hints which had been dropped at different times of the projected alliance, De Clavering, with some little indignation, exclaimed, "It will never do;--I see it will never do:--the girl's spirits are too low, her uncorrupted mind too pure, and her stomach too weak, to digest so much pride and acid as that old fellow had in his composition. His love seems to have operated on her feelings as being so nearly allied to misery, that she has already caught the infection, and I wish in the end it may not prove an incurable disease. Upon my soul I do not wonder at it, for he acts upon my nerves like a torpedo, or rather as the Greek fire did upon our armies, exciting both fear and indignation."

"By heaven! (said De Willows,) the folly and ambition of parents, in respect to their children, are, in my opinion, the most unaccountable of human absurdities. They form plans from their own passions and feelings, and then expect that young people can adopt them at their command, without making any allowance for the material difference between the sentiments, opinions, and inclinations, of nineteen and sixty."

"Suppose we all talk to the covernor, and toss the Paron into the rifer. A coot tucking might trive all the flames and darts of luf out of his pody, and restore the poor cirl from the crave, to which the toctor is for sending her like a tog, without giving time for Christian burial!"

"To argue, or contend with such characters (said De Clavering) would be like opposing a fiddle against thunder, or a squirt against a cataract in Switzerland."

"Then, on my soul, (replied Camelford,) you must take the Paron's pody under your own tirection. With your regimen, and a few of tevilish experiments, you will, Cot willing, soon dispatch him and his luf into another world."

"That, indeed, Hugh, would prove an effectual cure; but, in respect to the Baron, it would not be quite so easily accomplished; for I look upon him still to possess a constitution that would set physic and even the doctor himself at defiance.--He seems formed to wrestle sturdily with death before he will be vanquished, or yield the contest."

"If you can once lay hold of him, and kif him some of your pills and potions, he would soon be clad to gif up the coast."

"What, then, (said De Clavering) you think me more dangerous than love?--That little, subtle, and revengeful god will one day bring you upon your knees before his shrine for the affront put upon his all subduing influence."

"He had petter let me alone, (replied the Cambrian,) I am not so plind as his tivine highness, and will nefer worship any cot put the crate Cot of heaven. Eteliza has taught you petter, De Willows: That girl's tell-tale eyes petray that luf has been pusy with more than one person."

De Clavering laughed at this unexpected attack upon his friend, who felt a painful consciousness that Camelford had more reason for his observation that he wished, the partiality of the artless Edeliza being too visible to be longer mistaken. On his own part, he had, from the first seeing Madeline, cherished an increasing affection for her, while her uniform and unaffected coldness, with the preference she had shewn to another, too well convinced him he had nothing to hope; neither could he any longer affect to be blind to the mutual attachment which subsisted between her and his friend Edwin, the latter having made no attempt to deny it; but, being satisfied of the honour of De Willows, had in part entrusted him with the wishes he determined to encourage, notwithstanding the insurmountable, obstacles that appeared to preclude the most distant ray of hope.

"That same love, of which you are thinking and talking, (said De Clavering,) has so many devilifications in its train, I am determined to have nothing to do with it, till it becomes more rational, and can be reduced into a regular system, by which we poor short-sighted mortals may find directions how to act, without exposing ourselves to ridicule or disappointment. I am inclined to think I shall one day or other be tempted to marry, but it shall be to a woman who will take care to keep such ear-wig sort of fellows as you at a proper distance.--You tell fine tales, are all smoothness and deceit,--like a snail can give a gloss to the path you crawl over, and then leave such traces of your deceptive and invidious progress as cannot be concealed. Let the subject of your next satire, De Willows, be the male flirt,--an animal more dangerous than a tyger."

"Why so?" asked De Willows, determined not to apply the hint which he well knew was designed for him.

"Can there (said De Clavering) be found a character more deserving satire?--a thing that borrows the form of man to disgrace the name,--an adept in mean stratagems and mischievous deceives.--insensible to the admonitions of conscience,--well versed in all the practices of refined cruelty,--working like a mole in the dark, in order more effectually to ensnare the youthful heart of unsuspecting innocence, and that merely to gratify the vicious vanity of the moment; and, after he had sacrificed the health, happiness, and perhaps the life, of a young woman, who, by her tender nature, he has beguiled of peace, he laughs at her credulous folly, and boldly declares he had never any thought of making her his wife. That there are such men, who, under the sacred semblance of honour, can act thus despicably, I have, in the form of one once dear to me as life, unhappily experienced, and from that moment I became the friend and champion of the sex, and in bold defiance to all such deceivers, I throw down my gauntlet."

"How, in the name of Cot, came you to be so valiant, (cried Camelford,) as to think of fighting tuels for other people's pranks?"

"Because many of the fair sex are too gentle to vindicate themselves, too artless for suspicion, and too lovely to fall a sacrifice, without arming the hand of courage to avenge their injuries; for I think the man, who can trifle with the peace of a fellow-creature, may be justly compared to one of the exhalations of hell, sent to destroy and lay waste the small portion of happiness allotted to our mortal pilgrimage."

"You are warm, (said De Willows, confusedly;) perhaps I have undesignedly given you pain, without knowing I interfered with the wishes or pretensions of any one. On my honour, I never had any; but, on a subject so important, I cannot speak coolly, or canvass it with indifference. I will be frank, and own I admire Edeliza; and, were her heart as much in my power as I fear it is in your's, no man with impunity should wrest it from me."

"Well said, my prave toctor, (cried Camelford;) little tan Cupit must next take care of himself, or your will be after tissecting his cotship; and, though the poor cot is as plind as a peetle, you will be for couching his eyes, till he can see as clear as yourself."

A servant came to invite them to sup with the governor and his party, which luckily put an end to a conversation that was become unpleasant. It made De Willows rather uncomfortable and small in his own opinion, and compelled him to reflect more seriously on the subject than he had ever done before. Of Madeline it was folly to think any longer. If Edwin, who was beloved, dared not hope being blest with her hand, without the interference of a miracle, what chance could there be of his succeeding, for whom she felt only the coldest indifference? He determined to take his heart severely to talk, and to--but it was impossible for him at that moment to tell how he should dispose of a heart which had received so many wounds, that it scarcely retained any of its native mutilated form; but, on a more serious examination, he found a something lurking in it that made him feel very reluctant to give up his pleasant and interesting intercourse with the tender and artless Edeliza, which long habit had rendered more necessary to his happiness than he was aware of.

CHAP. XI.

The design of Sir Philip, in giving a ball, was this evening made known, and the next day messages were sent out to invite the company for that day week. Preparations were instantly begun, and new dresses ordered. Madeline and Agnes de Clifford obtained leave to be of the party, and several of the inhabitants of Bungay were highly pleased by receiving invitations. Roseline, on whose account, as much as the Baron's, it was given, was the least gratified. Any scene of cheerfulness to her was become a scene of misery. Her spirits depressed her mind, itself a chaos of contending passions, could not admit a single ray of hope or comfort to chase away the gloom which there prevailed. She no longer felt either pleasure or consolation in her stolen interviews with her beloved Walter, which once afforded her such indescribable satisfaction.

They now saw each other with a tender despondence, which served to deprive them of that resolution which could alone support them in those trials which no longer appeared at a distance, and Roseline, sinking under the burthen of her own sorrows, felt herself totally unable to share in those which equally overpowered her unfortunate lover, from whose prison she never went, but he concluded it was the last time he should be indulged with seeing her.

Walter heard of the ball, which was to be given in compliment to his rival, with that kind of contempt and trembling indignation which a brave officer feels at seeing some upstart stripling stepping over his head to preferment, and, by dint of mere adventitious events, obtaining authority to lead those whom he dared not have followed. It has always been said that the sincerest love could not exist without hope. In this instance, however, the assertion did not hold good; for, though hope was lost, love maintained its empire, and, environed with despair, lost none of that tender energy which had united two hearts under circumstances the most alarming and distressing.

The conduct of Sir Philip de Morney surprised all those who were let into the secret of the projected alliance. The Baron's pride appeared to have infected him with a mania of the same kind; and the unpleasant change it produced was not more inimical to the happiness of others than he soon found it proved to his own. He was now seldom greeted with the smile of affection: he saw looks of distress, and heard the sigh of discontent vibrate on his ear; and, whilst he condemned the obstinacy of others, determined resolutely to persevere in his own.

How much is it to be lamented, that, with all the knowledge he acquires, man knows so little of himself! How astonishing that a sudden and unexpected change in his prospects, or situation, should instantaneously work so unaccountable a revolution in his feelings, that he scarcely retains any recollection of his former dispositions!--and, still more strange it appears, that, while adversity serves to exalt the mind and purify the heart, prosperity should harden and debase them.

About forty of those who had been invited to the ball returned answers that they would do themselves the honour of accepting the invitation. Roseline became so much changed in her looks, appearance, and manner, that at length the alteration struck the Baron, and he mentioned it to Sir Philip. This produced a second warm altercation between him and Roseline, which ended as the former had done, namely, in the want of resolution, strength, and spirits, on her part, to contend longer on a subject so painful to her feelings, and so inimical to all her hopes of happiness; for Sir Philip now insisted, and that with a degree of unfeeling ferocity, that she should give her hand to the Baron within ten days after the month was expired which he had so foolishly allowed her perverse folly and caprice.

Of this interview Roseline said nothing to her brother or the prisoner, but felt that her fortitude deserted her as time stole away, and, with the deprivation of health and spirits, threatened to leave her an uncontending and helpless victim to the authority she began to doubt having power to resist. Still she determined, if dragged by force to the altar, she would resolutely and openly, before its sacred front, declare not only her unwillingness to become the wife of the Baron, but her repugnance and aversion to the monastic life.

At length the anxiously-expected, the long wished for evening arrived, and produced an assemblage of as much elegance, grace, wit, and beauty, as had ever been collected together in so confined a circle.--From the social town of Bungay some very lovely young women made their first appearance at the castle, decorated to the utmost advantage, and justly entitled to dispute the palm of beauty with many found in the higher ranks.

On this occasion, it is not to be doubted but they cherished hopes that their charms would conquer some of the young officers appointed to guard the fortress, on which the safety of themselves and the town depended.

From the earliest ages of the world, the old adage prevailed,--"None but the brave deserve the fair," while the military dress, shining sword, and becoming cockade, were ever found useful auxiliaries in assisting their wearer to find easy access to the female heart.

When dancing was ordered to begin, the Baron, arrayed most superbly, took out Roseline, and led her to the upper end of the room. De Willows followed, leading Edeliza, who was drest in the most becoming and captivating stile, and looked so enchantingly beautiful, that he wondered he had ever beheld her with indifference, or preferred another. Her expressive eyes told a tale so correspondent to the feelings of his own heart, as completed its conquest, and the captivity was found so pleasing and easy, it never afterwards wished to regain its freedom. Edwin danced with the gentle Madeline; Hugh Camelford with Bertha, and the rest of the party disposed of themselves as their vanity or inclination prompted.

The dancing was begun with avidity and spirit, which some very excellent music served to heighten and keep up. The Baron not ungracefully exhibited his well-dressed person, and this great personage had the satisfaction of seeing that the eyes of the company were chiefly fixed upon him who had procured them this unexpected indulgence,--a circumstance unusual in an age when expensive pleasures were confined to the higher ranks of life, and by that means less coveted by those in inferior stations, which certainly tended to the good of society in general, as it served to render all parties contented with their lot. We now often see, with pity and regret, if young people are thrown by chance into a walk of life some degrees higher than their habitual one, they seldom know how to return to their former humble path without discontent and regret, which will too often lead them to sacrifice virtue, and every real good, for the frivolous nonsense of the dress and the parade of ceremony, while, to obtain the enjoyment of pleasures destructive to time and real happiness, they will give up their peace of mind, not repent the poor bargain they have made so long as they can live in stile.

Some few pitied, but a far greater number envied Roseline for having made so important a conquest, and were surprised to see how little she was animated amidst the exhilirating scene of gaiety and splendor, wholly occupying the attention of one of the first barons in the kingdom, whose smile by most people would be reckoned an honour, and whose frown among many was destruction from which there was often no appeal.

Every rarity that could be procured was set before the party. Hospitality and festivity went hand in hand, and, to a careless and uninterested spectator, it would have seemed that universal happiness prevailed; but it was far otherwise. Happiness is seldom found amidst a crowd. In the more retired scenes of serene unambitious enjoyment, we have a much better change of finding that rara avis, and of retaining it in our possession, if possible to be found.

Sir Philip de Morney was tormented with fears that the obstinacy of his daughter would disappoint his ambition, while the tenderness of her mother had so far subdued the influence of her pride, that, to see her daughter restored to her former health and spirits, she would gladly have yielded up the honour of an alliance with the Baron.

The artless unaspiring Roseline, before she was brought into notice by the proud attentions of her noble admirer, was a far happier being than she found herself at the moment she was looked up to as an object of envy; but the simple dress she had been accustomed to wear was more conformable to her own unadulterated taste than the splendid habiliments with which she was now loaded, and which the pride, or design, of her father had procured to throw a veil over her senses, and tempt her to purchase those still more brilliant at the expence of her peace; yet, notwithstanding all the fascinating allurements with which she saw herself surrounded, the court, adulation, and respect, paid to her, the eagerness of the company to obtain a share in her notice, her heart remained with Walter, the unknown stranger, who belonged to no one,--who was without fortune, and deprived of that freedom which is the birthright of the poorest peasant; nevertheless Walter, in a gloomy and solitary prison, was an object more captivating and far more valuable in her eyes than the lordly Baron in a stately castle.

When they had danced about half an hour after supper, the Baron apologized to Roseline for withdrawing to make some alteration in his dress, which he found unpleasant. She felt herself gratified by this temporary absence, and took the opportunity of chatting with some of her young companions. Deeply engaged in conversation with Madeline and Agnes de Clifford, she did not observe that her father was suddenly called out of the room, and requested by the servant in a whisper to hasten with the utmost speed to the apartment of his friend.

Too much surprised to inquire the cause, he instantly obeyed the summons. On his entrance, I will leave my readers to guess how much he must have been alarmed and shocked at seeing that friend extended on the floor, with every appearance of death on his countenance. After trying various methods to recover him without effect, he ordered one of his people to call De Clavering to his assistance, who, by some powerful and proper applications, soon produced signs of life, but it was near an hour before any of sense returned. He neither seemed to know where he was, not why he saw so many people about him. At length, however, he recovered his recollection,--said he had been very ill but found himself better, and requested to be left a few minutes in private with Sir Philip de Morney, whom be beckoned to sit down by the side of the bed on which he was laid.

The room being cleared, and the door fastened, to prevent interruption, the Baron grasped the hand of his friend, and in a hurried tone, at the same time looking around him in terror, informed him that he had seen a spirit. "It stood there!" pointing with his finger to a particular part of the room. Sir Philip appeared incredulous, and his looks were not misunderstood.

"Believe me, (continued the Baron,) it was no delusion of the senses. I actually saw the ghost of my first wife as surely as I now see you, and as perfectly as ever I saw her when alive. She glided out of the apartment the moment I entered it to change my dress, which I found too heavy for dancing. She looked displeased, frowned sternly upon me, and shook her head as she disappeared. Her countenance was as blooming, and retained the same beauty and expression as when I led her in triumph to the altar twenty years ago."

"Surely, my lord, (said Sir Philip,) this supposed visionary appearance must be the effects of the disorder which attacked you so violently, that it led De Clavering, as well as myself, to tremble for your life."

"Say rather, (replied the Baron,) and then you will say right, the disorder was occasioned by the terror, which, in that moment, indeed deprived me of my senses.--If I see you at this time, I then beheld the face, form, and features, of my once-loved Isabella, of whom I was deprived by death in the infancy of my happiness, six months after she had given birth to a son, of whom the same inexorable tyrant robbed me in the fourth year of my second marriage."

Sir Philip found it was useless to contend with his friend on a subject in which he so obstinately persevered; and, though he was satisfied that the fright was merely the effect of disease, he though it wisest to confine his disbelief to his own bosom, and drop the conversation as soon as possible. He insisted on remaining with him the rest of the night, and cherished hopes that by the morning this unaccountable vagary would be forgotten, or only remembered as a sudden delirium, occasioned perhaps by heat, and the unusual exercise in which he had been engaged. His offer of sitting up was cordially accepted, and the two gentlemen agreed it would be right and prudent to say as little about the ghost as possible, Sir Philip secretly trembling left the Baron's unfortunate whim should operate so powerfully upon his feelings as to prevent his fulfilling at engagements with Roseline.

This strange circumstance occasioned so much confusion and hurry in the castle, that the party separated much earlier than they wished, and every one accounted, as their own humour dictated, for the sudden indisposition of the Baron. One or two, mortified by their pleasure being so unseasonably curtailed, said the old man had better have gone to bed at eight o'clock, or not have attempted dancing in a ball-room when he was dancing on the verge of the grave.

Sir Philip, with two servants, sat with the Baron during the night, and in the morning De Clavering found him so much recovered, that he advised him to get into the air, as that, with moderate exercise, he ventured to pronounce would perfect his recovery, and he would have nothing to fear from a relapse, if he kept himself composed; but that same composure the Baron did not find quite so easy to acquire as De Clavering imagined.

The awful appearance he had seen was not one moment from his remembrance: it still flitted before his mental sight, and his tortured mind presented only Isabella to his view. She had frowned upon him, shaken her head, and vanished with a look of anger and contempt: with this regretted and beloved wife he had passed by far the happiest moments of his life. She was the first, and indeed the only, woman he had really loved, notwithstanding the world had unjustly branded him with being an unkind and morose husband. It had in the respect dealt by him with the same injustice it had done by a thousand others. The delicate frame of Isabella was wasting in a rapid decline, from the moment she became a mother. He had adored her, and watched her as his richest treasure during the few months she had lingered with him, after presenting him with a son; she expired in his arms, and the severest pang she felt was being torn from them for ever. Why she should rise from the grave, why she should frown upon him, who had loved her so sincerely, he could neither comprehend nor reconcile to his feelings.

With his second wife he had lived several years; but all the happiness he had found in the course of them was not to be compared with that which he had enjoyed with his gentle Isabella, in the short time he had been indulged with the pleasure of calling her his own.

By the second lady, he had several children, and it was the death of an only surviving son, at the age of sixteen, on whom she had doted with an almost unpardonable fondness, which had occasioned her own.

Having been thus been deprived of two wives, and bereaved of his childres, without having any near relations for whom he felt those prevailing and powerful affections which could lead him to proctise self-denial on their account, he justly considered himself at liberty to endeavour to find happiness in the way to which his ideas of it were annexed, and therefore made choice of the daughter of his friend, Sir Philip, to share his fortune, and inherit such a part of it, as he should find her worthy to possess, if she did not bring him those who would have a more rightful claim to it.

He had no sooner recovered the shock and terror which he had so awfully and unaccountable experienced, than he determined to persevere, and accelerate all the necessary preparations for the completion of his marriage.

He was now eager to quit Bungay-Castle, and to return with the most convenient speed to his own, as he could not entirely divest himself of apprehension, that he might receive another unpleasant visit from his Isabella, whom, much as he had sincerely loved and admired when living, he did not now wish should leave her grave to interrupt those pleasures which he anticipated from the nature of his present engagements.

Sir Philip, who from the first had suspected the Baron's alarm and subsequent terror to have originated from a more natural (however unaccountable) cause than that to which he so obstinately imputed it, made all the inquiries he dared risk, without giving his reasons for so doing; but, notwithstanding his most artful endeavours, the mystery remained unexplained, and he was obliged to leave it to time, or chance, to develope.

END OF VOL. I.

* * * * *

BUNGAY CASTLE:

A NOVEL.

BY MRS. BONHOTE.

Author of the Parental Monitor, &c.

_In Two Volumes_

Astonished at the voice he stood amaz'd,
And all around with inward horror gaz'd.

ADDISON.

VOL. II.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR WILLIAM LANE, AT THE Minerva Press LEADENHALL-STREET. M.DCC.XCVI.

CHAP.I