But it was hardly less necessary to own to him part of the truth, than to conceal the rest. Should he suspect that Godolphin was his rival, and a rival fondly favoured, she knew that his pride, his jealousy, his resentment, would hurry him into excesses more dreadful, than any that had yet followed his impetuous love or his unbridled passions.
The apprehensions that he must, if they were long together, discover it, were more severely distressing than any she had yet felt; and she resolved, both now and when they reached Besançon, to keep the strictest guard on her words and looks; and to prevent if possible her real sentiments being known to Delamere, to Lady Westhaven, and to Godolphin himself.
So painful and so difficult appeared the dissimulation necessary for that end; and so contrary did she feel it to her nature, that she was withheld only by her love to Lady Westhaven from flying to England with Mrs. Stafford; and should she be restored to her estate, she thought that the only chance she had of tranquillity would be to hide herself from Delamere, whom she at once pitied and dreaded, and from Godolphin, whom she tenderly loved, in the silence and seclusion of Mowbray Castle.
Her embarrassment and uneasiness were encreased, when, on her joining Lord and Lady Westhaven, whose carriages and baggage were now ready, she found that the Chevalier de Bellozane had insisted on escorting them; an offer which they had no pretence to refuse. On her taking leave of the Baron, he very warmly and openly recommended his son to her favour; and Mrs. St. Alpin, who was very fond of her, repeated her wishes that she would listen to her nephew; and both with unfeigned concern saw their English visitors depart. Captain Godolphin had a place in his brother's chaise; Madelon occupied that which on the former journey was filled by Bellozane in the coach, the Chevalier now proceeding on horseback.
During the journey, Emmeline was low and dejected; from which she was sometimes roused by impatient enquiries and fearful apprehensions which darted into her mind, of what was to happen at the end of it. Every thing he observed, confirmed Godolphin in his persuasion that her heart was wholly Delamere's: her behaviour to himself was civil, but even studiously distant; while the unreserved and ardent addresses of Bellozane, who made no mystery of his pretensions, she repulsed with yet more coldness and severity: and tho' towards Lord and Lady Westhaven the sweetness of her manners was yet preserved, she seemed overwhelmed with sadness, and her vivacity was quite lost.
As soon as they reached Besançon, Lord Westhaven directed the carriages to stop at another hotel, while he went with his brother to that where Lord Delamere was. At the door, they met Millefleur; who, overjoyed to see them, related, that since Mr. Godolphin left his master the violence of his impatience had occasioned a severe relapse, in which, according to the orders Mr. Godolphin had given, the surgeons had bled and blistered him; that he was now again better, but very weak; yet so extremely ungovernable and self-willed, that the French people who attendedhim could do nothing with him, and that his English footmen, and Millefleur himself, were forced to be constantly in his room to prevent his leaving it or committing some other excess that might again irritate the fever and bring on alarming symptoms. They hastened to him; and found not only that his fever still hung on him, tho' with less violence, but that he was also extremely emaciated; and that only his youth had supported him thro' so severe an illness, or could now enable him to struggle with it's effects.
The moment they entered the room, he enquired after his sister and Emmeline; and hearing the latter was actually come, he protested he would instantly go to her.
Lord Westhaven and Godolphin resolutely opposed so indiscreet a plan: the former, by his undeviating rectitude of mind and excellent sense, had acquired a greater ascendant over Delamere than any of his family had before possessed; and to the latter he thought himself so much obliged, that he could not refuse to attend to him. He consented therefore at length to remain where he was; and Lord Westhaven hastened back to his wife, whom he led immediately to her brother.
She embraced him with many tears; and was at first greatly shocked at his altered countenance and reduced figure. But as Lord Westhaven and Godolphin both assured her there was no longer any danger if he would consent to be governed, she was soothed into hope of his speedy recovery and soon became tolerably composed.
As Lord Westhaven and Godolphin soon left them alone, he began to talk to his sister of Emmeline. He told her, that when he had been undeceived by Mr. Godolphin, and the scandalous artifices discovered which had raised in his mind such injurious suspicions, he had declared to Lord and Lady Montreville his resolution to proceed no farther in the treaty which they had hurried on with Miss Otley, and had solicited their consent, to his renewing and fulfilling that, which he had before entered into with Miss Mowbray; but that his mother, with more anger and acrimony than ever, had strongly opposed his wishes; and that his father had forbidden him, on pain of his everlasting displeasure, ever again to think of Emmeline.
After having for some time, he said, combated their inveterate prejudice, he had left them abruptly, and set out with his three servants for St. Alpin, (where Godolphin informed him Emmelinewas to be;) when a fever, owing to heat and fatigue, seized and confined him where he now was.
'Ah, tell me, my sister, what hopes are there that Emmeline will pardon me? May I dare enquire whether she is yet to be moved in my favour?'
Lady Westhaven, who during their journey could perceive no symptoms that her resolution was likely to give way, dared not feed him with false hopes; yet unwilling to depress him by saying all she feared, she told him that Emmeline was greatly and with justice offended; but that all he could at present do, was to take care of his health. She entreated him to consider the consequence of another relapse, which might be brought on by his eagerness and emotion; and then conjuring him to keep all he knew of Lady Adelina a secret from Lord Westhaven (the necessity of which he already had heard from Godolphin) she left him and returned to Emmeline.
To avoid the importunity of Bellozane, and the melancholy looks of Godolphin, which affected her with the tenderest sorrow, she had retired to a bed chamber, where she waited the return of Lady Westhaven with impatience.
Her solicitude for Delamere was very great; and her heart greatly lightened when she found that even his tender and apprehensive sister did not think him in any immediate danger, and believed that a few days would put him out of hazard even of a relapse.
She now again thought, that since Lady Westhaven had nothing to fear for his life, her presence would be less necessary; and her mind, the longer it thought of Mowbray Castle, adhering with more fondness to her plan of flying thither, she considered how she might obtain in a few days Lady Westhaven's consent to the preliminary measure of quitting Besançon.
While the heiress of Mowbray Castle meditated how to escape thither from the embarrassed and uneasy situation in which she now was; and while she fancied that in retirement she might conceal, if she could not conquer, her affection for Godolphin, (tho'in fact she only languished for an opportunity of thinking of him perpetually without observation), Lady Westhaven laid in wait for an occasion to try whether the ruined health and altered looks of her brother, would not move, in his favour, her tender and sensible friend.
While Delamere kept his chamber, Emmeline easily evaded an interview; but when, after three or four days, he was well enough to leave it, it was no longer possible for her to escape seeing him. However Godolphin thought himself obliged to bury in silence his unfortunate passion, he could not divest himself of that painful curiosity which urged him to observe the behaviour of Emmeline on their first meeting. Bellozane had discovered on what footing Lord Delamere had formerly been; and he dreaded a renewal of that preference she had given her lover, to which his proud heart could ill bear to submit, tho' he could himself make no progress in her favour. Tho' Lady Westhaven had entreated her to see Delamere alone, she had refused; assigning as a reason that as he could never again be to her any other than a friend, nothing could possibly pass which her other friends might not hear. Delamere was obliged therefore to brook the hard conditions of seeing her as an indifferent person, or not seeing her at all. But tho' she was immoveably determined against receiving him again as a lover, she had not been able to steel her heart against his melancholy appearance; his palid countenance, his emaciated form, extremely affected her. And when he approached her, bowed with a dejected air, and offered to take her hand—her haughtiness, her resentment forsook her—she trembling gave it, expressed in incoherent words her satisfaction at seeing him better, and betrayed so much emotion, that Godolphin, who with a beating heart narrowly observed her, saw, as he believed, undoubted proof of her love; and symptoms of her approaching forgiveness.
Delamere, who, whenever he was near her, ceased to remember that any other being existed; would, notwithstanding the presence of so many witnesses, have implored her pardon and her pity; but the moment he began to speak on that subject, she told him, with as much resolution as she could command, that the subject was to her so very disagreeable, as would oblige her to withdraw if he persisted in introducing it.
While his looks expressed how greatly he was hurt by her coldness, those of Godolphin testified equal dejection. For howevershe might repress the hopes of his rival by words of refusal and resentment, he thought her countenance gave more unequivocal intelligence of the real state of her heart. Bellozane, as proud, as little used to controul and disappointment, and with more personal vanity than Lord Delamere, beheld with anger and mortification the pity and regard which Emmeline shewed for her cousin; and ceasing to be jealous of Godolphin, he saw every thing to apprehend from the rank, the fortune, the figure of Delamere—from family connection, which would engage her to listen to him—from ambition, which his title would gratify—from her tenderness to Lady Westhaven, and from the return of that affection which she had, as he supposed, once felt for Lord Delamere himself.
But the more invincible the obstacles which he saw rising, appeared, the more satisfaction he thought there would be in conquering them. And to yield up his pretensions, on the first appearance of a formidable rival, was contrary to his enterprising spirit and his ideas of that glory, which he equally coveted in the service of the fair and of the French King.
With these sentiments of each other, the restraint and mistrust of every party impeded general or chearful conversation. Godolphin soon left the room, to commune with his own uneasy thoughts in a solitary walk; Lord Westhaven would then have taken out Bellozane, in order to give Lord Delamere an opportunity of being alone with his sister and Emmeline. But he was determined not to understand hints on that subject; and when his Lordship asked him to take an afternoon's walk, found means to refuse it. Afraid of leaving two such combustible spirits together, Lord Westhaven, to the great relief of Emmeline, staid with them till Delamere retired for the night.
But the behaviour of Bellozane to Emmeline, which was very particular, as if he wished it to be noticed, had extremely alarmed Delamere; and whenever they afterwards met, they surveyed each other with such haughty reserve, and their conversation bordered so nearly on hostility and defiance, that Emmeline, who expected every hour to see their animosity blaze out in a challenge, could support her uneasiness about it no longer; and sending early to speak to Lord Westhaven on the beginning of the second week of their stay, she represented to him her fears, and entreated him to prevail on the Chevalier to leave them and return to St. Alpin.
'I have attempted it already,' said he; 'but with so little success,that if I press it any farther I must quarrel with him myself. I know perfectly well that your fears have too much foundation; and that if we can neither separate or tranquillise these unquiet spirits, we shall have some disagreeable affair happen between them. I know nothing that can be done but your accepting at once your penitent cousin.'
'No, my Lord,' answered she, with an air of chagrin, 'that I will not do! I most ardently wish Lord Delamere well, and would do any thing to make him happy—except sacrificing my own happiness, and acting in opposition to my conscience.'
'Why, my dear Emmeline, how is this? You had once, surely, an affection for Delamere; and his offence against you, however great, admits of considerable alleviation. Consider all the pains that were taken to disunite you, and the importunity he suffered from his family. Surely, when you are convinced of his repentance you should restore him to your favour; and however you may be superior to considerations of fortune and rank, yet when they unite in a man otherwise unexceptionable they should have some weight.'
'They have none with me, upon my honour, my Lord. And since we have got upon this topic, I will be very explicit—I am determined on no account to marry Lord Delamere. But that I may give no room to charge me with caprice or coquetry (since your Lordship believes I once had so great a regard for him), or with that unforgiving temper which I see you are disposed to accuse me of, it is my fixed intention, if I obtain, by your Lordship's generous interposition, the Mowbray estate, to retire to Mowbray Castle, and never to marry at all.'
Lord Westhaven, at the solemnity and gravity with which she pronounced these words, began to laugh so immoderately, and to treat her resolution with ridicule so pointed, that he first made her almost angry, and then obliged her to laugh too. At length, however, she prevailed on him again to listen to her apprehensions about Delamere and Bellozane.
'Do not, my Lord, rally me so cruelly; but for Heaven's sake, before it is too late, prevent any more meetings between these two rash and turbulent young men. Why should the Chevalier de Bellozane stay here?'
'Because it is his pleasure. I do assure you seriously, my dear Miss Mowbray, that I have almost every day since we came hitherattempted to send my fiery cousin back to St. Alpin. But my anxiety has only piqued him; and he determines more resolutely to stay because he sees my motive for wishing him gone. He is exactly the character which I have somewhere seen described by a French poet.—A young man who,
——'leger, impetueux,De soi meme rempli, jaloux, presomptueux,Bouillant dans ses passions; cedant a ses caprices;Pour un peu de valeur, se passoit de tous ses vices.'[38]
——'leger, impetueux,De soi meme rempli, jaloux, presomptueux,Bouillant dans ses passions; cedant a ses caprices;Pour un peu de valeur, se passoit de tous ses vices.'[38]
——'leger, impetueux,De soi meme rempli, jaloux, presomptueux,Bouillant dans ses passions; cedant a ses caprices;Pour un peu de valeur, se passoit de tous ses vices.'[38]
'Yet, among all his faults, poor Bellozane has some good qualities; and I am really sorry for this strange perseverance in an hopeless pursuit, because it prevents my asking him to England. I give you my honour, Emmeline,' continued his Lordship, in a more serious tone, 'that I have repeatedly represented to him the improbability of his success; but he answers that you have never positively dismissed him by avowing your preference to another; that he knows your engagement with Lord Delamere is dissolved, and that he considers himself at liberty to pursue you till you have decidedly chosen, or even till you are actually married. Nay, I doubt whether your being married would make any difference in the attentions of this eccentric and presuming Frenchman, for I do not consider Bellozane as a Swiss.'
'Well, but my dear Lord, if the Chevalier will persist in staying, I must determine to go. I see not that my remaining here will be attended with any good effects. It may possibly be the cause of infinite uneasiness to Lady Westhaven. Do, therefore, prevail upon her to let me go alone to St. Germains. When I am gone, Lord Delamere will think more of getting well than of forcing me into a new engagement. He will then soon be able to travel; and the Chevalier de Bellozane will return quietly to the Baron.'
'Why to speak ingenuously, Emmeline, itdoesappear to me that it were on every account more proper for you to be in England. Thither I wish you could hasten, before it will be possible for Lord Delamere, or indeed for my wife, who must travel slowly, to get thither. I do not know whether your travelling with us will be strictly proper, on other accounts; but if it were, it would berendered uneasy to you by the company of these two mad headed boys; for Bellozane I am sure intends, if you accompany us, to go also.'
'What objection is there then to my setting out immediately for St. Germains, with Le Limosin and Madelon, if Lady Westhaven would but consent to it?'
'I can easily convince her of the necessity of it; but I foresee another objection that has escaped you.'
'What is that, my Lord?'
'That Bellozane will follow you.'
'Surely he will not attempt it?'
'Indeed I apprehend he will. I have no manner of influence over him; and he is here connected with a set of military men, who are the likeliest people in the world to encourage such an enterprize—and if at last this Paris should carry off our fair Helen!'—
'Nay, but my Lord do not ridicule my distress.'
'Well then, I will most seriously and gravely counsel you: and my advice is, that you set out as soon as you can get ready, and that my brother Godolphin escort you.'
Emmeline was conscious that she too much wished such an escort; yet fearing that her preference of him would engage Godolphin in a quarrel with Bellozane or Lord Delamere, perhaps with both, she answered, while the deepest blush dyed her cheeks—
'No, my Lord, I cannot—I mean not—I should be sorry to give Captain Godolphin the trouble of such a journey—and I beg you not to think of it—.'
'I shall speak to him of it, however.'
'I beg, my Lord—I intreat that you will not.'
'Here he is—and we will discuss the matter with him now.'
Godolphin at this moment entered the room; and Lord Westhaven relating plainly all Emmeline's fears, and her wishes to put an end to them by quitting Besançon, added the proposal he had made, that Godolphin should take care of her till she joined Mrs. Stafford.
Tho' Godolphin saw in her apprehensions for the safety of Delamere, only a conviction of her tender regard for him, and considered his own attachment as every way desperate; yet he could not refuse himself, when it was thus offered him, the pleasure of being with her—the exquisite tho' painful delight of being useful to her. He therefore eagerly expressed the readiness,the happiness, with which he should undertake so precious a charge.
Emmeline, fearful of betraying her real sentiments, overacted the civil coldness with which she thought it necessary to refuse this offer. Godolphin, mortified and vexed at her manner as much as at her denial, ceased to press his services; and Lord Westhaven, who wondered what could be her objection, since of the honour and propriety of Godolphin's conduct he knew she could not doubt, seemed hurt at her rejection of his brother's friendly intention of waiting on her; and dropping the conversation, went away with Godolphin.
She saw that her conduct inevitably impressed on the mind of the latter a conviction of her returning regard for Delamere; and she feared that to Lord Westhaven it might appear to be the effect of vanity and coquetry.
'Perhaps he will think me,' said she, 'so vain as to suppose that Godolphin has also designs, and that therefore I decline his attendance; and coquet enough to wish for the pursuit of these men, whom I only affect to shun, and for that reason prefer going alone, to accepting the protection of his brother. Yet asIknow the sentiments of Godolphin, which it appears Lord Westhaven does not, surely I had better suffer his ill opinion of me, than encourage Godolphin's hopes; which, till Delamere can be diverted from prosecuting his unwelcome addresses, will inevitably involve him in a dispute, and such a dispute as I cannot bear to think of.'
Uncertain what to do, another day passed; and on the following morning, while she waited for Lady Westhaven, she was addressed by Godolphin, who calmly and gravely enquired if she would honour him with any commands for England?
'Are you going then, Sir, before my Lord and Lady?'
'I am going, Madam, immediately.'
'By way of Paris?'
'Yes, Madam, to Havre; whence I shall get the quickest to Southampton, and to the Isle of Wight. I am uneasy at the entire solitude to which my absence condemns Adelina.'
'You have heard no unfavourable news, I hope, of Lady Adelina or your little boy?'
'None. But I am impatient to return to them.'
'As you are going immediately, Sir,' said Emmeline (makingan effort to conquer a pain she felt rising in her bosom) 'I will not detain you by writing to Lady Adelina. Perhaps—as it is possible—as I hope'—
She stopped. Godolphin looked anxious to hear what was possible, what she hoped.
'As I shall so soon, so very soon be in England, perhaps we may meet,' reassumed she, speaking very quick—'possibly I may have the happiness of seeing her Ladyship and dear little William.'
'To meetyou,' replied Godolphin, very solemnly, 'Adelina shall leave her solitude; for certainly a journey to see her in it will hardly be undertaken byLady Delamere.'
He then in the same tone wished her health and happiness till he saw her again, and left her.
He was no sooner gone, than she felt disposed to follow him and apologize for her having so coldly refused his offers of protection. Pride and timidity prevented her; but they could not stop her tears, which she was obliged to conceal by hurrying to her own room. Lady Westhaven soon after sent for her to a late breakfast: she found Lord Delamere there; but heard that Godolphin was gone.
Soon after breakfast, Lady Westhaven and her brother, (who could not yet obtain a clear intermission of the fever which hung about him, and who continued extremely weak,) went out together for an airing; and Lord Westhaven, unusually grave, was left reading in the room with Emmeline.
He laid down his book. 'So,' said he, 'William is flown away from us.'
It was a topic on which Emmeline did not care to trust her voice.
'I wish you could have determined to have gone with him.'
'I wish, my Lord, I could have reconciled it to my ideas of propriety; since certainly I should have been happy and safe in such an escort; and since, without any at all, I must, in a day or two, go.'
'I believe it will be best. Lord Delamere is no better; and Bellozane has no thought of leaving us entirely, tho' his military friends take up so much of his time that he is luckily less with Delamere. Lord Delamere has again, Miss Mowbray, been imploring me to apply to you. He wishes you only to hear him. He complains that you fly from him, and will not give him an opportunity of entering on his justification.'
'I am extremely concerned at Lord Delamere's unhappiness.But I must repeat that I require of his Lordship no justification; that I most sincerely forgive him if he supposes he has injured me; but that as to any proposals such as he once honoured me with, I am absolutely resolved never to listen to them; and I entreat him to believe that any future application on the subject must be entirely fruitless.'
'Poor young man!' said Lord Westhaven. 'However you must consent to see him alone, and to tell him so yourself; for from me he will not believe you so very inflexible—so very cruel.'
'I am inflexible, my Lord, but surely not cruel. The greatest cruelty of which I could be guilty, either to Lord Delamere or myself, would be to accept his offers, feeling as I feel, and thinking as I think.'
'I do not know how we shall get him to England, or what will be done with him when he is there.'
'He will do well, my Lord. Doubt it not.'
'Upon my honour Idodoubt it! It is to me astonishing that a young man so volatile, so high-spirited as Delamere, should be capable of an attachment at once so violent and so steady.'
'Steady!—Has your Lordship forgotten Miss Otley?'
'His wavering then was, you well know, owing to some evil impressions he had received of you; which, tho' he refuses to tell me the particulars, he assures me were conveyed and confirmed with so much art, that a more dispassionate and cooler lover would have believed them without enquiry. How then can you wonder athispetulant and eager spirit seizing on probable circumstances, which his jealousy and apprehension immediately converted into conviction? As soon as he knew these suspicions were groundless, did he not fly to implore your pardon; and hasten, even at the hazard of his life, to find and appease you? Such is the present situation of his mind and of his health, that I very seriously assure you I doubt whether he will survive your total rejection.'
Emmeline, unable to answer this speech gravely, without betraying the very great concern it gave her, assumed a levity she did not feel.
'Your Lordship,' said she, 'is disposed to think thus, from the warm and vehement manner in which Lord Delamere is accustomed to express himself. If he is really unhappy, I am very sorry; but I am persuaded time, and the more fortunate alliance which he is solicited to form, will effect a cure. Don't think meunfeeling if I answer your melancholy prophecy in the words of Rosalind—
'Men have died from time to time, and worms have eat them—but not for love.'
'Men have died from time to time, and worms have eat them—but not for love.'
She then ran away, and losing all her forced spirits the moment she was alone, gave way to tears. She fancied they flowed entirely for the unhappiness of poor Delamere, and for her uncertain situation. But tho' the former uneasiness deeply affected her sensible heart, many of the tears she shed were because Godolphin was gone, and she knew not when she should again see him.
Godolphin, repining and wretched, pursued his way to Paris. He thought that Emmeline's coldness and reserve were meant to put an end to any hopes he might have entertained; and that her reconciliation and marriage with Lord Delamere must inevitably take place as soon as she had, by her dissimulated cruelty, punished him for his rashness and his errors. His daily observation confirmed him in this opinion: he saw, that in place of her candid and ingenuous manners, a studied conduct was adopted, which concealed her real sentiments—sentiments which he concluded to be all in favour of Delamere. And finding that he could not divest himself of his passion for her, he thought that it was a weakness, if not a crime, to indulge it in her presence, while it imposed on himself an insupportable torment; and that, by quitting her, he should at least conceal his hopeless attachment, and save himself the misery of seeing her actually married to Lord Delamere. He determined, therefore, to tear himself away; and to punish himself for the premature expectations with which he had begun his journey to St. Alpin, by shutting himself up at East Cliff (his house in the Isle of Wight) and refusing himself the sight of her, of whom it would be sufficient misery to think, when she had given herself to her favoured and fortunate lover.
Full of these reflections, Godolphin continued his road, intending to take the passage boat at Havre. But at the hotel he frequented at Paris, he met a gentleman of his acquaintance who was going the next day to England by way of Calais; and as he had his own post chaise, and only his valet with him, he told Godolphin that if he would take a place in his chaise he would send his servant post. This offer Godolphin accepted; and altering his original design, went with his friend to Calais to cross to England.
FOOTNOTES:[38]——Volatile—impetuous—Full of himself—jealous—presumptuous—Fiery in his passions; yielding to every caprice;And who believes some courage an apology for all his vices.
[38]——Volatile—impetuous—Full of himself—jealous—presumptuous—Fiery in his passions; yielding to every caprice;And who believes some courage an apology for all his vices.
[38]
——Volatile—impetuous—Full of himself—jealous—presumptuous—Fiery in his passions; yielding to every caprice;And who believes some courage an apology for all his vices.
It was now impossible for Emmeline to avoid a conversation with Lord Delamere, which his sister urged her so earnestly to allow him. Bellozane was, by the French officers, with whom he principally lived, engaged out for two days; and Lord and Lady Westhaven easily found an opportunity to leave Emmeline with Delamere.
He was no sooner alone in her presence, than he threw himself on his knees before her—'Will you,' cried he, 'ah! will you still refuse to hear and to forgive me? Have I offended beyond all hopes of pardon?'
'No, my Lord.—I do most readily and truly forgive every offence, whether real or imaginary, that you believe you have committed against me.'
'You forgive me—But to what purpose?—Only to plunge me yet deeper into wretchedness. You forgive me—but you despise, you throw me from you for ever. Ah! rather continue to be angry, than distract me by a pardon so cold and careless!'
'If your Lordship will be calm—if you will rise, and hear me with temper, I will be very explicit with you; but while you yield to these extravagant transports, I cannot explain all I wish you to understand; and must indeed beg to be released from a conversation so painful to me, and to you so prejudicial.'
Delamere rose and took a chair.
'I need not, Sir,' said Emmeline, collecting all her courage, 'recall to your memory the time so lately passed, when I engaged to become your's, if at the expiration of a certain period Lord and Lady Montreville consented, and you still remained disposed to bestow on me the honour of your name.'
'What am I to expect,' cried Delamere, eagerly interrupting her—'Ah! what am I to expect from a preface so cold and cruel? You have indeed no occasion to recall to my memory those days when I was allowed to look forward to that happiness, which now, thro' the villainy of others, and my own madness and ideotism, I have lost. But, Madam, it must not, it cannot be so easily relinquished! By heaven I will not give you up!—and if but for a moment I thought——.'
'You seemed just now, Sir, disposed to hear me with patience.Since, however, you cannot even for a few minutes forbear these starts of passion, I really am unequal to the task of staying with you.'
She would then have hastened away; but Delamere forcibly detaining her, again protested he would be calm, and again she went on.
'At that time, I will own to you, that without any prepossession, almost without a wish either to accept or decline the very high honour you offered me, I was content to engage myself to be your wife; because you said such an engagement would makeyouhappy, and because I then knew not that it would rendermeotherwise.'
'Was you even then thus indifferent? Had I no place in your heart, Madam, when you would have given me your hand?'
'Yes, Sir—you had then the place I now willingly restore to you. I esteemed you; I looked upon you with a sisterly affection; and had I married you, it would have been rather to have made you happy, than because I had any wish to form other ties than those by which our relationship and early acquaintance had connected us.'
'Ah! my angelic Emmeline! it will still make me happy! Let the reasons which then influenced you, again plead for me; and forget, O! forget all that has passed since my headlong folly urged me to insult and forsake you!'
'Alas! my Lord, that is not in my power! You have cancelled the engagements that subsisted between us; and, as I understand, have actually formed others more indissoluble, with a lady of high rank and of immense fortune—one whose alliance is as anxiously courted by your family, as mine is despised. Can your Lordship again fly from your promises? Can you quit at pleasure the affluent and high-born heiress as you quitted the deserted and solitary orphan?'
'Cursed, cursed cruelty!' exclaimed Delamere, speaking thro' his shut teeth—But go on, Madam! I deserve your severity, and must bear your reproaches! Yet surely you know that but for the machinations of those execrable Crofts', I should never have acted as I did—you know, that however destitute of fortune chance had made you, I preferred you to all those who might have brought me wealth!'
'I acknowledge your generosity, Sir, and on that head meant not to reproach. I merely intended to represent to you what youseem to have forgotten—that were I disposed to restore you the hand you so lately renounced, you could not take it; since Miss Otley will certainly not relinquish the claim you have given her to your regard.'
'You are misinformed.—I am under no engagement to Miss Otley.—I am not by heaven! by all that is sacred!'
'Were not all preparations for your marriage in great forwardness, Sir, when you left England? and must not your consent have been previously obtained before Lord Montreville would have made them? However, to put an end to all uncertainty, I must tell you, my Lord, with a sincerity which will probably be displeasing to you, that my affections—'
'Are no longer in your own power!' cried he, hastily interrupting her—'Speak, Madam—is it not so?'
'I did not say that, Sir. I was going to assure you that I now find it impossible to command them—impossible to feel for you that preference, without which I should think myself extremely culpable were I to give you my hand.'
'I understand you, Madam! You give that preference to another. The Chevalier de Bellozane has succeeded to your affections. He has doubtless made good use of the opportunities he has had to conciliate your favour; but before he carries his good fortune farther, he must discuss with me the right by which he pretends to it.'
'Whether he has or has not a right to pretend to my regard, Sir,' said Emmeline, with great spirit, 'this causeless jealousy, so immediately after you have been convinced of the fallacy of your supposition in regard to another person, convinces me, that had I unfortunately given you an exclusive claim to my friendship and affection, my whole life would have been embittered by suspicion, jealousy, and caprice. Recollect, my Lord, that I have said nothing of the Chevalier de Bellozane, nor have you the least reason to believe I have for him those sentiments you are pleased to impute to me.'
'But can I doubt it!' exclaimed Delamere, rising, and walking about in an agony—'Can I doubt it, when I have heard you disclaim me for ever!—when you have told me your affections are no longer in your power!'
'No, Sir; my meaning was, what I now repeat—that as my near relation, as my friend, as the brother of Lady Westhaven, I shallever esteem and regard you; but that I cannot command now in your favour those sentiments which should induce me to accept of you as my husband. What is past cannot be recalled; and tho' I am most truly concerned to see you unhappy, my determination is fixed and I must abide by it.'
'Death and hell!' cried the agonized Delamere—'It is all over then! You utterly disclaim me, and hardly think it worth while to conceal from me for whose sake I am disclaimed!'
Emmeline was terrified to find that he still persisted in imputing her estrangement from him to her partiality for Bellozane; foreseeing that he would immediately fly to him, and that all she apprehended must follow.
'I beg, I entreat, Lord Delamere, that you will understand that I give no preference to Mr. de Bellozane. I will not only assure you of that, but I disclaim all intention of marriage whatever! Suffer me, my Lord, to entreat that you will endeavour to calm your mind and regain your health. Reflect on the cruel uncertainty in which you have left the Marquis and the Marchioness; reflect on the uneasy situation in which you keep Lord and Lady Westhaven, and on the great injury you do yourself; and resolutely attempt, in the certainty of succeeding, to divest yourself of a fatal partiality, which has hitherto produced only misery to you and to your family.'
'Oh! most certainly, most certainly!' cried Delamere, almost choaked with passion—'I shall undoubtedly make all these wise reflections; and after having gone thro' a proper course of them, shall, possibly, with great composure, see you in the arms of that presumptuous coxcomb—that vain, supercilious Frenchman!—that detested Bellozane! No, Madam! no! you may certainly give yourself to him, but assure yourself I live not to see it!'
He flew out of the room at these words, tho' she attempted to stop and to appease him. Her heart bled at the wounds she had yet thought it necessary to inflict; and she was at once grieved and terrified at his menacing and abrupt departure. She immediately went herself after Lord Westhaven, to intreat him to keep Bellozane and Delamere apart. His Lordship was much disturbed at what had passed, which Emmeline faithfully related to him: Bellozane was still out of town; and Lord Westhaven, who now apprehended that on Delamere's meeting him he would immediately insult him, said he would consider what could be done toprevent their seeing each other 'till Delamere became more reasonable. On enquiry, he found that the Chevalier was certainly engaged with his companions 'till the next day. He therefore came back to Emmeline about an hour after he had left her, and told her that he thought it best for her to set out that afternoon on her way to St. Germains.
'You will by this means make it difficult for Bellozane to overtake you, if he should attempt it; and when he sees you have actually fled from Delamere, he will be little disposed to quarrel with him, and will perhaps go home. As to Delamere, his sister and I must manage him as well as we can; which will be the easier, as he is, within this half hour, gone to bed in a violent access of fever. Indeed, in the perturbation of mind he now suffers, there is no probability of his speedy amendment; for as fast as he regains strength, his violent passions throw his frame again into disorder.—But perhaps when he knows you are actually in England, he may try to acquire, by keeping himself quiet, that share of health which alone can enable him to follow you.'
Emmeline, eagerly embracing this advice, which she found had the concurrence of Lady Westhaven, prepared instantly for her departure; and embracing tenderly her two excellent friends, who hoped soon to follow her, and who had desired her to come to them to reside as soon as they were settled in London, where they had no house at present, she got into a chaise, with Madelon, and attended by Le Limosin, who was proudly elated at being thus 'l'homme de confience'[39]to Mademoiselle Mowbray, she left Besançon; her heart deeply impressed with a sense of Delamere's sufferings, and with an earnest wish for the restoration of his peace.
Tho' Godolphin had been gone four days, and went post, so that she knew he must be at Paris long before her, she could not, as she proceeded on her journey, help fancying that some accident might have stopped him, and that she might overtake him. She knew not whether she hoped or feared such an encounter. But the disappointed air with which she left every post house where she had occasion to stop for horses, plainly evinced that she rather desired than dreaded it. She felt all the absurdity and ridicule of expecting to see him; yet still she looked out after him; and he was the object she sought when she cast her eyes round her at the several stages.
Without overtaking him, or being herself overtaken by Bellozane, she arrived in safety and in the usual time at Paris, and immediately went on to St. Germains; Le Limosin being so well acquainted with travelling, that she had no trouble nor alarm during her journey.
When she got to St. Germains, she was received with transport by Mrs. Stafford and her family. She found her about to depart, in two days, for England, where there was a prospect of settling her husband's affairs; and she had undertaken to go alone over, in hopes of adjusting them for his speedy return; while he had agreed to remain with the children 'till he heard the success of her endeavours. Great was the satisfaction of Mrs. Stafford to find that Emmeline would accompany her to England; with yet more pleasure did she peruse those documents which convinced her that her fair friend went to claim, with an absolute certainty of success, her large paternal fortune.
Lord Westhaven had given her a long letter to the Marquis of Montreville, to whom he desired she would immediately address herself; and he had also written to an eminent lawyer, his friend, into whose hands he directed her immediately to put the papers that related to her birth, and by no means to trust them with any other person.
With money, also, Lord Westhaven had amply furnished her; and she proposed taking lodgings in London, 'till she could settle her affairs with Lord Montreville; and then to go to Mowbray Castle.
On the second day after her reaching St. Germains, she began her journey to Calais with Mrs. Stafford, attended by Le Limosin and Madelon. When they arrived there, they heard that a passage boat would sail about nine o'clock in the evening; but on sending Le Limosin to speak to the master, they learned that there were already more cabin passengers than there was room to accommodate, and that therefore two ladies might find it inconvenient.
As the evening, however, was calm, and the wind favourable, and as the two fair travellers were impatient to be in England, they determined to go on board. It was near ten o'clock before the vessel got under way; and before two they were assured they should be at Dover. They therefore hesitated not to pass that time in chairs on the deck, wrapped in their cloaks; and wouldhave preferred doing so, to the heat and closeness of the cabin, had there been room for them in it.
By eleven o'clock, every thing insensibly grew quiet on board. The passengers were gone to their beds, the vessel moved calmly, and with very little wind, over a gently swelling sea; and the silence was only broken by the waves rising against it's side, or by the steersman, who now and then spoke to another sailor, that slowly traversed the deck with measured pace.
The night was dark; a declining moon only broke thro' the heavy clouds of the horizon with a feeble and distant light. There was a solemnity in the scene at once melancholy and pleasing. Mrs. Stafford and Emmeline both felt it. They were silent; and each lost in her own reflections; nor did they attend to a slight interruption of the stillness that reigned on board, made by a passenger who came from below, muffled in a great coat. He spoke in a low voice to the man at the helm, and then sat down on the gunwale, with his back towards the ladies; after which all was again quiet.
In a few minutes a deep sigh was uttered by this passenger; and then, after a short pause, the two friends were astonished to hear, in a voice, low, but extremely expressive, these lines, addressed to Night.