CHAPTER XIII.After this conversation, Calantha saw no more of her lover: yet he was very anxious to see her once again, and much and violently agitated before he went. A few words which he had written to her he gave into Mrs. Seymour’s own hands; and this letter, though it was such as to justify the high opinion some had formed of his character, was but little calculated to satisfy the expectations of Calantha’s absurdly romantic mind; or to realize the hopes she had cherished. It was not more expressive of his deep regret at their necessary separation, than of his anxiety that she should not suffer her spirits to be depressed, or irritate her father by an opposition which would prove fruitless.—“He does not love you Calantha,” said Lady Margaret, with a malicious smile, assoon as she had read the letter—(and every one would read it):—“when men begin to speak of duty, they have ceased to love.” This remark gave Calantha but little consolation. Lord Avondale had quitted her too, without even bidding her farewell; and her thoughts continually dwelt on this disappointment.Calantha knew not then that her misery was more than shared,—that Lord Avondale, though too proud to acknowledge it, was a prey to the deepest grief upon her account,—that he lived but in the hope of possessing the only being upon earth to whom he had attached himself,—and that the sentence pronounced against both, was a death stroke to his happiness, as well as to her own. When strong love awakes for the first time in an inexperienced heart it is so diffident, so tremblingly fearful, that it dares scarcely hope even for a return; and our own demerits appear before us, in such exaggerated colours, and the superiorexcellence of the object we worship arises so often to our view, that it seems but the natural consequence of our own presumption, that we should be neglected and forgotten.Of Admiral Sir R. Mowbray, Calantha now took leave without being able to utter one word:—she wept as children weep in early days, the hearts’ convulsive sob free and unrestrained. He was as much affected as herself, and seeking Lady Margaret, before he left the castle and followed his nephew who had gone straight to England, began an eager attack upon her, with all the blunt asperity of his nature. Indeed he bitterly reproached himself, and all those who had influenced him, in what he termed his harsh unfeeling conduct to his nephew in this affair.—“And as to you, madam,” he cried, addressing Lady Margaret, “you make two young people wretched, to gratify the vanity of your son, and acquire a fortune, which I wouldwillingly yield to you, provided the dear children might marry, and go home with me to Allanwater, a place as pretty, and far more peaceful than any in these parts: there, I warrant, they would live happy, and die innocent—which is more than most folks can say in these great palaces and splendid castles.”A smile of contempt was the only answer Lady Margaret deigned to give.—Sir Richard continued, “you are all a mighty fine set of people, no doubt, and your assemblies, and your balls are thronged and admired; but none of these things will make the dear child happy, if her mind is set upon my nephew; I am the last in the world to disparage any one; but my nephew is just as proper a man in every point of view as your son; aye, or any body’s son in the whole world; and so there is my mind given free and hearty; for there is not a nobler fellow, and there never can be, than Henry Avondale:—he is as brave a soldieras ever fought for his country; and in what is he deficient?” Lady Margaret’s lips and cheeks were now become livid and pale—a fatal symptom, as anger of that description in all ages has led to evil deeds; whereas the scarlet effusion has, from the most ancient times been accounted harmless. “Take Lady Calantha then,” exclaimed Lady Margaret, with assumed calmness, while every furious passion shook her frame; “and may she prove a serpent to your bosom, and blast the peace of your whole family.” “She is an angel!” exclaimed the Admiral, “and she will be our pride, and our comfort.” “She is a woman,” returned Lady Margaret, with a malicious sneer; “and, by one means or other, she will work her calling.” Calantha’s tears checked Sir Richard’s anger; and, his carriage being in readiness, he left the castle immediately after this conversation.
After this conversation, Calantha saw no more of her lover: yet he was very anxious to see her once again, and much and violently agitated before he went. A few words which he had written to her he gave into Mrs. Seymour’s own hands; and this letter, though it was such as to justify the high opinion some had formed of his character, was but little calculated to satisfy the expectations of Calantha’s absurdly romantic mind; or to realize the hopes she had cherished. It was not more expressive of his deep regret at their necessary separation, than of his anxiety that she should not suffer her spirits to be depressed, or irritate her father by an opposition which would prove fruitless.—“He does not love you Calantha,” said Lady Margaret, with a malicious smile, assoon as she had read the letter—(and every one would read it):—“when men begin to speak of duty, they have ceased to love.” This remark gave Calantha but little consolation. Lord Avondale had quitted her too, without even bidding her farewell; and her thoughts continually dwelt on this disappointment.
Calantha knew not then that her misery was more than shared,—that Lord Avondale, though too proud to acknowledge it, was a prey to the deepest grief upon her account,—that he lived but in the hope of possessing the only being upon earth to whom he had attached himself,—and that the sentence pronounced against both, was a death stroke to his happiness, as well as to her own. When strong love awakes for the first time in an inexperienced heart it is so diffident, so tremblingly fearful, that it dares scarcely hope even for a return; and our own demerits appear before us, in such exaggerated colours, and the superiorexcellence of the object we worship arises so often to our view, that it seems but the natural consequence of our own presumption, that we should be neglected and forgotten.
Of Admiral Sir R. Mowbray, Calantha now took leave without being able to utter one word:—she wept as children weep in early days, the hearts’ convulsive sob free and unrestrained. He was as much affected as herself, and seeking Lady Margaret, before he left the castle and followed his nephew who had gone straight to England, began an eager attack upon her, with all the blunt asperity of his nature. Indeed he bitterly reproached himself, and all those who had influenced him, in what he termed his harsh unfeeling conduct to his nephew in this affair.—“And as to you, madam,” he cried, addressing Lady Margaret, “you make two young people wretched, to gratify the vanity of your son, and acquire a fortune, which I wouldwillingly yield to you, provided the dear children might marry, and go home with me to Allanwater, a place as pretty, and far more peaceful than any in these parts: there, I warrant, they would live happy, and die innocent—which is more than most folks can say in these great palaces and splendid castles.”
A smile of contempt was the only answer Lady Margaret deigned to give.—Sir Richard continued, “you are all a mighty fine set of people, no doubt, and your assemblies, and your balls are thronged and admired; but none of these things will make the dear child happy, if her mind is set upon my nephew; I am the last in the world to disparage any one; but my nephew is just as proper a man in every point of view as your son; aye, or any body’s son in the whole world; and so there is my mind given free and hearty; for there is not a nobler fellow, and there never can be, than Henry Avondale:—he is as brave a soldieras ever fought for his country; and in what is he deficient?” Lady Margaret’s lips and cheeks were now become livid and pale—a fatal symptom, as anger of that description in all ages has led to evil deeds; whereas the scarlet effusion has, from the most ancient times been accounted harmless. “Take Lady Calantha then,” exclaimed Lady Margaret, with assumed calmness, while every furious passion shook her frame; “and may she prove a serpent to your bosom, and blast the peace of your whole family.” “She is an angel!” exclaimed the Admiral, “and she will be our pride, and our comfort.” “She is a woman,” returned Lady Margaret, with a malicious sneer; “and, by one means or other, she will work her calling.” Calantha’s tears checked Sir Richard’s anger; and, his carriage being in readiness, he left the castle immediately after this conversation.