CHAPTER III.Lady Margaret Delaval, only surviving sister of the Duke of Altamonte, was born in Ireland, where she remained until her marriage with Captain Buchanan. She then established herself at Naples; the fleet in which her husband served being stationed in the Mediterranean sea. After the birth of her son William, she immediately sent him to Ireland, there to receive, under her brother’s tuition, an education more fitting the heir of Altamonte, and the future husband of Lady Calantha Delaval.Freed from the last tie which had bound her to one feeling of honour or of virtue, she, without remorse, gave way during the absence of her child and husband (who accompanied the boy to Ireland) to a life of extravagance andvice, ensnaring the inexperienced by her art, and fascinating the most wary by her beauty and her talents. The charms of her person and the endowments of her mind were worthy of a better fate than that which she was preparing for herself. But, under the semblance of youthful gaiety, she concealed a dark intriguing spirit, which could neither remain at rest, nor satisfy itself in the pursuit of great and noble objects. She had been hurried on by the evil activity of her own mind, until the habit of crime had overcome every scruple, and rendered her insensible to repentance, and almost to remorse. In this career, she had improved to such a degree her natural talent of dissimulation, that, under its impenetrable veil, she was able to carry on securely her darkest machinations; and her understanding had so adapted itself to her passions, that it was in her power to give, in her own eyes, a character of grandeur, to the vice and malignity, which affordedan inexplicable delight to her depraved imagination.While she was thus indulging her disgraceful inclinations, her heart became attached with all her characteristic violence to Lord Dartford, a young English nobleman, who had accompanied the Countess of Glenarvon to Naples, and who, after passing some months in her society, had already made her the offer of his hand. He no sooner, however, beheld Lady Margaret than he left that object of his first attachment; and the short-lived happiness of guilty passion was thus enhanced by a momentary triumph over a beautiful and unfortunate rival.—Lady Glenarvon lived not to lament it: the blow which was given by the hand she loved, went straight as it was aimed; it pierced her heart; she did not long survive.Her son, already advancing towards manhood, she committed to the care ofthe Count Gondimar, the only being who, amongst the numerous attendants in the hours of her prosperity, had remained with her in this last trying scene, and received her dying wishes.—“He has no father,” said she, weeping in remembrance of the gallant husband she had lost; “but to you I consign this jewel of my heart, the dear and only pledge of my true and loyal love. Whatever crime I have committed since the loss of Glenarvon, my only protector, let not a shade of it be cast upon my son, to sully the bright splendor of his father’s fame! Promise a dying mother to protect her child, should he be restored to his grandfather’s titles and fortunes. To you, to you I entrust him. Ah! see that he be safely conducted to his own country.”The Italian Count promised all that Lady Glenarvon desired; and wept as he kissed the faded cheek of the English boy. But no sooner was the momentaryinterest which he had conceived for the unhappy sufferer at an end—no sooner had Lady Glenarvon expired, than, disregarding her last request, he sought only to render himself useful and necessary to her son. For this purpose he eagerly assisted him in all his pursuits, however criminal, and whilst he lived upon the sums which were regularly sent from Ireland to supply the necessary expences of his charge, he lost no opportunity of flattering Lord de Ruthven, the present possessor of the estate, and conniving with him in the means of detaining Glenarvon in Italy, and thus depriving him of a great share of his property. Gondimar’s lessons were, however, unnecessary; Glenarvon soon emancipated himself from his tuition; and the utmost the base Italian could boast, was that he had assisted in perverting a heart already by nature, but too well inclined to misuse the rare gifts with which it had been endowed.Glenarvon passed the first years after his mother’s death, in visiting Rome and Florence. He, after this, expressed a wish of entering the navy; and having obtained his desire, he served under the command of Sir George Buchanan. He even distinguished himself in his new profession; but having done so, abruptly left it.Love, it was said, was the cause of this sudden change in Glenarvon’s intentions.—Love for the most beautiful woman in Florence. Young as he then was, his talents and personal attractions soon gained the object of his pursuit; but a dreadful tragedy followed this success. The husband of Fiorabella revenged the stigma cast upon his wife’s fame, by instantly sacrificing her to his vengeance; and, since that fatal deed, neither the chevalier nor Glenarvon had ever again appeared in Florence.Some said that the unhappy victim had found an avenger; but the proud andnoble family of the chevalier, preserved a faithful silence concerning that transaction. Glenarvon’s youth prevented any suspicion from falling upon him; and the death of Giardini was ascribed to another, and a more dangerous hand. Strange rumours were also circulated in Ireland, after this event; it was every where affirmed that Glenarvon had been secretly murdered; and Lady Margaret, then at Naples, had even written to apprize her brother of the report.
Lady Margaret Delaval, only surviving sister of the Duke of Altamonte, was born in Ireland, where she remained until her marriage with Captain Buchanan. She then established herself at Naples; the fleet in which her husband served being stationed in the Mediterranean sea. After the birth of her son William, she immediately sent him to Ireland, there to receive, under her brother’s tuition, an education more fitting the heir of Altamonte, and the future husband of Lady Calantha Delaval.
Freed from the last tie which had bound her to one feeling of honour or of virtue, she, without remorse, gave way during the absence of her child and husband (who accompanied the boy to Ireland) to a life of extravagance andvice, ensnaring the inexperienced by her art, and fascinating the most wary by her beauty and her talents. The charms of her person and the endowments of her mind were worthy of a better fate than that which she was preparing for herself. But, under the semblance of youthful gaiety, she concealed a dark intriguing spirit, which could neither remain at rest, nor satisfy itself in the pursuit of great and noble objects. She had been hurried on by the evil activity of her own mind, until the habit of crime had overcome every scruple, and rendered her insensible to repentance, and almost to remorse. In this career, she had improved to such a degree her natural talent of dissimulation, that, under its impenetrable veil, she was able to carry on securely her darkest machinations; and her understanding had so adapted itself to her passions, that it was in her power to give, in her own eyes, a character of grandeur, to the vice and malignity, which affordedan inexplicable delight to her depraved imagination.
While she was thus indulging her disgraceful inclinations, her heart became attached with all her characteristic violence to Lord Dartford, a young English nobleman, who had accompanied the Countess of Glenarvon to Naples, and who, after passing some months in her society, had already made her the offer of his hand. He no sooner, however, beheld Lady Margaret than he left that object of his first attachment; and the short-lived happiness of guilty passion was thus enhanced by a momentary triumph over a beautiful and unfortunate rival.—Lady Glenarvon lived not to lament it: the blow which was given by the hand she loved, went straight as it was aimed; it pierced her heart; she did not long survive.
Her son, already advancing towards manhood, she committed to the care ofthe Count Gondimar, the only being who, amongst the numerous attendants in the hours of her prosperity, had remained with her in this last trying scene, and received her dying wishes.—“He has no father,” said she, weeping in remembrance of the gallant husband she had lost; “but to you I consign this jewel of my heart, the dear and only pledge of my true and loyal love. Whatever crime I have committed since the loss of Glenarvon, my only protector, let not a shade of it be cast upon my son, to sully the bright splendor of his father’s fame! Promise a dying mother to protect her child, should he be restored to his grandfather’s titles and fortunes. To you, to you I entrust him. Ah! see that he be safely conducted to his own country.”
The Italian Count promised all that Lady Glenarvon desired; and wept as he kissed the faded cheek of the English boy. But no sooner was the momentaryinterest which he had conceived for the unhappy sufferer at an end—no sooner had Lady Glenarvon expired, than, disregarding her last request, he sought only to render himself useful and necessary to her son. For this purpose he eagerly assisted him in all his pursuits, however criminal, and whilst he lived upon the sums which were regularly sent from Ireland to supply the necessary expences of his charge, he lost no opportunity of flattering Lord de Ruthven, the present possessor of the estate, and conniving with him in the means of detaining Glenarvon in Italy, and thus depriving him of a great share of his property. Gondimar’s lessons were, however, unnecessary; Glenarvon soon emancipated himself from his tuition; and the utmost the base Italian could boast, was that he had assisted in perverting a heart already by nature, but too well inclined to misuse the rare gifts with which it had been endowed.
Glenarvon passed the first years after his mother’s death, in visiting Rome and Florence. He, after this, expressed a wish of entering the navy; and having obtained his desire, he served under the command of Sir George Buchanan. He even distinguished himself in his new profession; but having done so, abruptly left it.
Love, it was said, was the cause of this sudden change in Glenarvon’s intentions.—Love for the most beautiful woman in Florence. Young as he then was, his talents and personal attractions soon gained the object of his pursuit; but a dreadful tragedy followed this success. The husband of Fiorabella revenged the stigma cast upon his wife’s fame, by instantly sacrificing her to his vengeance; and, since that fatal deed, neither the chevalier nor Glenarvon had ever again appeared in Florence.
Some said that the unhappy victim had found an avenger; but the proud andnoble family of the chevalier, preserved a faithful silence concerning that transaction. Glenarvon’s youth prevented any suspicion from falling upon him; and the death of Giardini was ascribed to another, and a more dangerous hand. Strange rumours were also circulated in Ireland, after this event; it was every where affirmed that Glenarvon had been secretly murdered; and Lady Margaret, then at Naples, had even written to apprize her brother of the report.