CHAPTER XX.As soon as Lord and Lady Avondale had quitted Castle Delaval, they returned to Allanwater, previous to their departure for England. Buchanan, as if to mark his still-continued resentment against Calantha, arrived at Castle Delaval, accompanied by some of his London acquaintance almost as soon as she had quitted it. He soon distinguished himself in that circle by his bold libertine manners, his daring opinions and his overbearing temper. He declared himself at utter enmity with all refinement, and professed his distaste for what is termed good society. It was not long, however, before Lady Margaret observed a strange and sudden alteration in her son’s manners and deportment:—he entered into every amusement proposed; he became more than usuallycondescending; and Alice Mac Allain, it was supposed, was the sole cause of his reform.Alice was credulous; and when she was first told that she was as fair as the opening rose, and soft and balmy as the summer breeze, she listened with delight to the flattering strain, and looked in the mirror to see if all she heard, were true. She beheld there a face, lovely as youth and glowing health could paint it, dimpling with ever-varying smiles, while hair, like threads of gold, curled in untaught ringlets over eyes of the lightest blue; and when she heard that she was loved, she could not bring herself to mistrust those vows which her own bosom was but too well prepared to receive. She had, perhaps, been won by the first who had attempted to gain her affections; but she fell into hands where falsehood had twined itself around the very heart’s core:—she learned to love in no common school, and one by one every principleand every thought was perverted; but it was not Buchanan who had to answer for her fall! She sunk into infamy, it is true, and ruin irreparable; but she passed through all the glowing course of passion and romance; nor awoke, till too late, from the dream which had deluded her.Her old father, Gerald Mac Allain, had, with the Duke’s permission, promised her hand in marriage to a young man in the neighbourhood, much esteemed for his good character. Linden had long considered himself as an approved suitor. When, therefore, he was first informed of the change which had occurred in her sentiments, and, more than all, when he was told with every aggravation of her misconduct and duplicity, he listened to the charge with incredulity, until the report of it was confirmed from her own lips, by an avowal, that she thought herself no longer worthy of accepting his generous offer,—that to be plain, she loved another, and wished never more tosee him, or to hear the reproaches which she acknowledged were her due. “I will offer you no reproaches,” said Linden, in the only interview he had with her; “but remember, Miss Mac Allain, when I am far away, that if ever those who, under the name of friend, have beguiled and misled you, should prove false and fail you,—remember, that whilst Linden lives, there is one left who would gladly lay down his life to defend and preserve you, and who, being forced to quit you, never will reproach you: no, Alice—never.”“Gerald,” said Lady Margaret, on the morning when Alice was sent in disgrace from the castle, “I will have no private communication between yourself and your daughter. She will be placed at present in a respectable family; and her future conduct will decide in what manner she will be disposed of hereafter.” The old man bent to the ground in silentgrief; for the sins of children rise up in judgment against their parents. “Oh let me not be sent from hence in disgrace,” said the weeping girl; “drive me not to the commission of crime.—I am yet innocent.—Pardon a first offence.” “Talk not of innocence,” said Lady Margaret, sternly: “those guilty looks betray you.—Your nocturnal rambles, your daily visits to the western cliff, your altered manner,—all have been observed by me and Buchanan”—“Oh say not, at least, that he accuses me. Whatever my crime, I am guiltless, at least, towards him.” “Guiltless or not, you must quit our family immediately; and to-morrow, at an early hour, see that you are prepared.”It was to Sir Everard’s house that Alice was conveyed. There were many reasons which rendered this abode more convenient to Lady Margaret than any other. The Doctor was timid and subservient, and Count Gondimar was alreadya great favourite of the youngest daughter, so that the whole family were in some measure, in Lady Margaret’s power. Her ladyship accordingly insisted upon conveying Alice, herself, to Lady St. Clare’s house; and having safely lodged her in her new apartment, returned to the castle, in haste, and appeared at dinner, pleased with her morning’s adventure; her beauty more radiant from success.It is said that nothing gives a brighter glow to the complexion, or makes the eyes of a beautiful woman sparkle so intensely, as triumph over another. Is this, however, the case with respect to women alone? Buchanan’s florid cheek was dimpled with smiles; no sleepless night had dimmed the lustre of his eye; he talked incessantly, and with unusual affability addressed himself to all, except to his mother; while a look of gratified vanity was observable whenever the absence of Alice was alluded to. He had been pleasedwith being the cause of ruin to any woman; but his next dearest gratification was the having it supposed that he was so. He was much attacked upon this occasion, and much laughing and whispering was heard. The sufferings of love are esteemed lightly till they are felt; and there were, on this occasion, few at the Duke’s table, if any, who had ever really known them.
As soon as Lord and Lady Avondale had quitted Castle Delaval, they returned to Allanwater, previous to their departure for England. Buchanan, as if to mark his still-continued resentment against Calantha, arrived at Castle Delaval, accompanied by some of his London acquaintance almost as soon as she had quitted it. He soon distinguished himself in that circle by his bold libertine manners, his daring opinions and his overbearing temper. He declared himself at utter enmity with all refinement, and professed his distaste for what is termed good society. It was not long, however, before Lady Margaret observed a strange and sudden alteration in her son’s manners and deportment:—he entered into every amusement proposed; he became more than usuallycondescending; and Alice Mac Allain, it was supposed, was the sole cause of his reform.
Alice was credulous; and when she was first told that she was as fair as the opening rose, and soft and balmy as the summer breeze, she listened with delight to the flattering strain, and looked in the mirror to see if all she heard, were true. She beheld there a face, lovely as youth and glowing health could paint it, dimpling with ever-varying smiles, while hair, like threads of gold, curled in untaught ringlets over eyes of the lightest blue; and when she heard that she was loved, she could not bring herself to mistrust those vows which her own bosom was but too well prepared to receive. She had, perhaps, been won by the first who had attempted to gain her affections; but she fell into hands where falsehood had twined itself around the very heart’s core:—she learned to love in no common school, and one by one every principleand every thought was perverted; but it was not Buchanan who had to answer for her fall! She sunk into infamy, it is true, and ruin irreparable; but she passed through all the glowing course of passion and romance; nor awoke, till too late, from the dream which had deluded her.
Her old father, Gerald Mac Allain, had, with the Duke’s permission, promised her hand in marriage to a young man in the neighbourhood, much esteemed for his good character. Linden had long considered himself as an approved suitor. When, therefore, he was first informed of the change which had occurred in her sentiments, and, more than all, when he was told with every aggravation of her misconduct and duplicity, he listened to the charge with incredulity, until the report of it was confirmed from her own lips, by an avowal, that she thought herself no longer worthy of accepting his generous offer,—that to be plain, she loved another, and wished never more tosee him, or to hear the reproaches which she acknowledged were her due. “I will offer you no reproaches,” said Linden, in the only interview he had with her; “but remember, Miss Mac Allain, when I am far away, that if ever those who, under the name of friend, have beguiled and misled you, should prove false and fail you,—remember, that whilst Linden lives, there is one left who would gladly lay down his life to defend and preserve you, and who, being forced to quit you, never will reproach you: no, Alice—never.”
“Gerald,” said Lady Margaret, on the morning when Alice was sent in disgrace from the castle, “I will have no private communication between yourself and your daughter. She will be placed at present in a respectable family; and her future conduct will decide in what manner she will be disposed of hereafter.” The old man bent to the ground in silentgrief; for the sins of children rise up in judgment against their parents. “Oh let me not be sent from hence in disgrace,” said the weeping girl; “drive me not to the commission of crime.—I am yet innocent.—Pardon a first offence.” “Talk not of innocence,” said Lady Margaret, sternly: “those guilty looks betray you.—Your nocturnal rambles, your daily visits to the western cliff, your altered manner,—all have been observed by me and Buchanan”—“Oh say not, at least, that he accuses me. Whatever my crime, I am guiltless, at least, towards him.” “Guiltless or not, you must quit our family immediately; and to-morrow, at an early hour, see that you are prepared.”
It was to Sir Everard’s house that Alice was conveyed. There were many reasons which rendered this abode more convenient to Lady Margaret than any other. The Doctor was timid and subservient, and Count Gondimar was alreadya great favourite of the youngest daughter, so that the whole family were in some measure, in Lady Margaret’s power. Her ladyship accordingly insisted upon conveying Alice, herself, to Lady St. Clare’s house; and having safely lodged her in her new apartment, returned to the castle, in haste, and appeared at dinner, pleased with her morning’s adventure; her beauty more radiant from success.
It is said that nothing gives a brighter glow to the complexion, or makes the eyes of a beautiful woman sparkle so intensely, as triumph over another. Is this, however, the case with respect to women alone? Buchanan’s florid cheek was dimpled with smiles; no sleepless night had dimmed the lustre of his eye; he talked incessantly, and with unusual affability addressed himself to all, except to his mother; while a look of gratified vanity was observable whenever the absence of Alice was alluded to. He had been pleasedwith being the cause of ruin to any woman; but his next dearest gratification was the having it supposed that he was so. He was much attacked upon this occasion, and much laughing and whispering was heard. The sufferings of love are esteemed lightly till they are felt; and there were, on this occasion, few at the Duke’s table, if any, who had ever really known them.