CHAPTER XVII.It was at Allanwater, a small villa amidst the mountains, in the county of Leitrim, that Lord and Lady Avondale passed the first months of their marriage. This estate had been settled upon Sir Richard Mowbray, during his lifetime, by his brother, the late Earl of Avondale. It was cheerful, though retired; and to Calantha’s enchanted eyes, appeared all that was most romantic and beautiful upon earth. What indeed had not appeared beautiful to her in the company of the man she loved! Every one fancies that there exists in the object of their peculiar admiration a superiority over others. Calantha perhaps was fully justified in this opinion. Lord Avondale displayed even in his countenance the sensibility of a warm, ardent and generous character.He had a distinguished and prepossessing manner, entirely free from all affectation. It is seldom that this can be said of any man, and more seldom of one possessed of such singular beauty of person. He appeared indeed wholly to forget himself; and was ever more eager in the interests of others than his own. Many there are, who, though endowed with the best understandings, have yet an inertness, an insensibility to all that is brilliant and accomplished; and who, though correct in their observations, yet fatigue in the long intercourse of life by the sameness of their thoughts. Lord Avondale’s understanding, however, fraught as it was with knowledge, was illumined by the splendid light of genius, yet not overthrown by its force. Of his mind, it might be truly said, that it did not cherish one base, one doubtful or worldly feeling. He was so sincere that, even in conversation, he never mis-stated, or exaggerated a fact. He saw at a glance the faults of others;but his extreme good nature and benevolence prevented his taking umbrage at them. He was, it is true, of a hot and passionate temper, and if once justly offended, firm in his resolve, and not very readily appeased; but he was too generous to injure or to hate even those who might deserve it. When he loved, and he never really loved but one, it was with so violent, so blind a passion, that he might be said to doat upon the very errors of the girl to whom he was thus attached. To the society of women he had been early accustomed; but had suffered too much from their arts, and felt too often the effects of their caprices, to be easily made again their dupe and instrument. Of beauty he had ofttimes been the willing slave. Strong passion, opportunity, and entire liberty of conduct, had, at an early period, thrown him into its power. His profession, and the general laxity of morals, prevented his viewing his former conduct in the lightin which it appeared to his astonished bride; but when she sighed, because she feared that she was not the first who had subdued his affections, he smilingly assured her, that she should be the last—that no other should ever be dear to him again.Calantha, in manner, in appearance, in every feeling, was but a child. At one hour, she would look entranced upon Avondale, and breath vows of love and tenderness; at another, hide from his gaze, and weep for the home she had left. At one time she would talk with him and laugh from the excess of gaiety she felt; at another, she would stamp her foot upon the ground in a fit of childish impatience, and exclaiming, “You must not contradict me in any thing,” she would menace to return to her father, and never see him more.If Lord Avondale had a defect, it was too great good nature, so that he suffered his vain and frivolous partner, to command,and guide, and arrange all things around him, as she pleased, nor foresaw the consequence of her imprudence, though too often carried to excess. With all his knowledge, he knew not how to restrain; and he had not the experience necessary to guide one of her character:—he could only idolize; he left it to others to censure and admonish.It was also for Calantha’s misfortune, that Lord Avondale’s religious opinions were different from those in which she had been early educated. It was perhaps to shew him the utility of stricter doctrines, both of faith and morality, that heaven permitted one so good and noble, as he was, to be united with one so frail and weak. Those doctrines which he loved to discuss, and support in speculation, she eagerly seized upon, and carried into practice; thus proving to him too clearly, their dangerous and pernicious tendency. Eager to oppose and conquer those opinions in his wife, whichsavoured as he thought of bigotry and prudish reserve, he tore the veil at once from her eyes, and opened hastily her wondering mind to a world before unknown. He foresaw not the peril to which he exposed her:—he heeded not the rapid progress of her thoughts—the boundless views of an over-heated imagination. At first she shrunk with pain and horror, from every feeling which to her mind appeared less chaste, less pure, than those to which she had long been accustomed; but when her principles, or rather her prejudices, yielded to the power of love, she broke from a restraint too rigid, into a liberty the most dangerous from its novelty, its wildness and its uncertainty.The monastic severity which she had imposed upon herself, from exaggerated sentiments of piety and devotion, gave way with the rest of her former maxims.—She knew not where to pause, or rest; her eyes were dazzled, her understandingbewildered; and she viewed the world, and the new form which it wore before her, with strange and unknown feelings, which she could neither define, nor command.Before this period, her eyes had never even glanced upon the numerous pages which have unfortunately been traced by the hand of profaneness and impurity; even the more innocent fictions of romance had been withheld from her; and her mother’s precepts had, in this respect, been attended to by her with sacred care. Books of every description were now, without advice, without selection, thrown open before her; horror and astonishment at first retarded the course of curiosity and interest:—Lord Avondale smiled; and soon the alarm of innocence was converted into admiration at the wit, and beauty with which some of these works abounded. Care is taken when the blind are cured, that the strong light of day should not fall too suddenlyupon the eye; but no caution was observed in at once removing from Calantha’s mind, the shackles, the superstitions, the reserve, the restrictions which overstrained notions of purity and piety had imposed.Calantha’s lover had become her master; and he could not tear himself one moment from his pupil. He laughed at every artless or shrewd remark, and pleased himself with contemplating the first workings of a mind, not unapt in learning, though till then exclusively wrapt up in the mysteries of religion, the feats of heroes, the poetry of classic bards, and the history of nations the most ancient and the most removed.—“Where have you existed, my Calantha?” he continually said:—“who have been your companions?” “I had none,” she replied; “but wherever I heard of cruelty, vice, or irreligion, I turned away.” “Ah, do so still, my best beloved,” said Lord Avondale, with a sigh. “Be everas chaste, as frank, as innocent, as now.” “I cannot,” said Calantha, confused and grieved. “I thought it the greatest of all crimes to love:—no ceremony of marriage—no doctrines, men have invented, can quiet my conscience:—I know no longer what to believe, or what to doubt:—hide me in your bosom:—let us live far from a world which you say is full of evil:—and never part from my side; for you are—Henry you are, all that is left me now. I look no more for the protection of Heaven, or the guidance of parents;—you are my only hope:—do you preserve and bless me; for I have left every thing for you.”
It was at Allanwater, a small villa amidst the mountains, in the county of Leitrim, that Lord and Lady Avondale passed the first months of their marriage. This estate had been settled upon Sir Richard Mowbray, during his lifetime, by his brother, the late Earl of Avondale. It was cheerful, though retired; and to Calantha’s enchanted eyes, appeared all that was most romantic and beautiful upon earth. What indeed had not appeared beautiful to her in the company of the man she loved! Every one fancies that there exists in the object of their peculiar admiration a superiority over others. Calantha perhaps was fully justified in this opinion. Lord Avondale displayed even in his countenance the sensibility of a warm, ardent and generous character.He had a distinguished and prepossessing manner, entirely free from all affectation. It is seldom that this can be said of any man, and more seldom of one possessed of such singular beauty of person. He appeared indeed wholly to forget himself; and was ever more eager in the interests of others than his own. Many there are, who, though endowed with the best understandings, have yet an inertness, an insensibility to all that is brilliant and accomplished; and who, though correct in their observations, yet fatigue in the long intercourse of life by the sameness of their thoughts. Lord Avondale’s understanding, however, fraught as it was with knowledge, was illumined by the splendid light of genius, yet not overthrown by its force. Of his mind, it might be truly said, that it did not cherish one base, one doubtful or worldly feeling. He was so sincere that, even in conversation, he never mis-stated, or exaggerated a fact. He saw at a glance the faults of others;but his extreme good nature and benevolence prevented his taking umbrage at them. He was, it is true, of a hot and passionate temper, and if once justly offended, firm in his resolve, and not very readily appeased; but he was too generous to injure or to hate even those who might deserve it. When he loved, and he never really loved but one, it was with so violent, so blind a passion, that he might be said to doat upon the very errors of the girl to whom he was thus attached. To the society of women he had been early accustomed; but had suffered too much from their arts, and felt too often the effects of their caprices, to be easily made again their dupe and instrument. Of beauty he had ofttimes been the willing slave. Strong passion, opportunity, and entire liberty of conduct, had, at an early period, thrown him into its power. His profession, and the general laxity of morals, prevented his viewing his former conduct in the lightin which it appeared to his astonished bride; but when she sighed, because she feared that she was not the first who had subdued his affections, he smilingly assured her, that she should be the last—that no other should ever be dear to him again.
Calantha, in manner, in appearance, in every feeling, was but a child. At one hour, she would look entranced upon Avondale, and breath vows of love and tenderness; at another, hide from his gaze, and weep for the home she had left. At one time she would talk with him and laugh from the excess of gaiety she felt; at another, she would stamp her foot upon the ground in a fit of childish impatience, and exclaiming, “You must not contradict me in any thing,” she would menace to return to her father, and never see him more.
If Lord Avondale had a defect, it was too great good nature, so that he suffered his vain and frivolous partner, to command,and guide, and arrange all things around him, as she pleased, nor foresaw the consequence of her imprudence, though too often carried to excess. With all his knowledge, he knew not how to restrain; and he had not the experience necessary to guide one of her character:—he could only idolize; he left it to others to censure and admonish.
It was also for Calantha’s misfortune, that Lord Avondale’s religious opinions were different from those in which she had been early educated. It was perhaps to shew him the utility of stricter doctrines, both of faith and morality, that heaven permitted one so good and noble, as he was, to be united with one so frail and weak. Those doctrines which he loved to discuss, and support in speculation, she eagerly seized upon, and carried into practice; thus proving to him too clearly, their dangerous and pernicious tendency. Eager to oppose and conquer those opinions in his wife, whichsavoured as he thought of bigotry and prudish reserve, he tore the veil at once from her eyes, and opened hastily her wondering mind to a world before unknown. He foresaw not the peril to which he exposed her:—he heeded not the rapid progress of her thoughts—the boundless views of an over-heated imagination. At first she shrunk with pain and horror, from every feeling which to her mind appeared less chaste, less pure, than those to which she had long been accustomed; but when her principles, or rather her prejudices, yielded to the power of love, she broke from a restraint too rigid, into a liberty the most dangerous from its novelty, its wildness and its uncertainty.
The monastic severity which she had imposed upon herself, from exaggerated sentiments of piety and devotion, gave way with the rest of her former maxims.—She knew not where to pause, or rest; her eyes were dazzled, her understandingbewildered; and she viewed the world, and the new form which it wore before her, with strange and unknown feelings, which she could neither define, nor command.
Before this period, her eyes had never even glanced upon the numerous pages which have unfortunately been traced by the hand of profaneness and impurity; even the more innocent fictions of romance had been withheld from her; and her mother’s precepts had, in this respect, been attended to by her with sacred care. Books of every description were now, without advice, without selection, thrown open before her; horror and astonishment at first retarded the course of curiosity and interest:—Lord Avondale smiled; and soon the alarm of innocence was converted into admiration at the wit, and beauty with which some of these works abounded. Care is taken when the blind are cured, that the strong light of day should not fall too suddenlyupon the eye; but no caution was observed in at once removing from Calantha’s mind, the shackles, the superstitions, the reserve, the restrictions which overstrained notions of purity and piety had imposed.
Calantha’s lover had become her master; and he could not tear himself one moment from his pupil. He laughed at every artless or shrewd remark, and pleased himself with contemplating the first workings of a mind, not unapt in learning, though till then exclusively wrapt up in the mysteries of religion, the feats of heroes, the poetry of classic bards, and the history of nations the most ancient and the most removed.—“Where have you existed, my Calantha?” he continually said:—“who have been your companions?” “I had none,” she replied; “but wherever I heard of cruelty, vice, or irreligion, I turned away.” “Ah, do so still, my best beloved,” said Lord Avondale, with a sigh. “Be everas chaste, as frank, as innocent, as now.” “I cannot,” said Calantha, confused and grieved. “I thought it the greatest of all crimes to love:—no ceremony of marriage—no doctrines, men have invented, can quiet my conscience:—I know no longer what to believe, or what to doubt:—hide me in your bosom:—let us live far from a world which you say is full of evil:—and never part from my side; for you are—Henry you are, all that is left me now. I look no more for the protection of Heaven, or the guidance of parents;—you are my only hope:—do you preserve and bless me; for I have left every thing for you.”