CHAPTER XXIII.Few women know how to conceal successful love, but none can conceal their doubt, resentment and jealousy. Men can do both, and both without a struggle. They feel less, and fear more. But this was not the case with Lord Glenarvon, nor did he wish to appear indifferent; he only wished Calantha to feel his power, and he delighted in the exhibition of it. In vain she had formed the best resolutions, they were now all rendered useless. Lord Glenarvon had forestalled her wise intention, no coldness—no indifference she could assume, had equalled that, which he either affected or felt.Upon the bosom of Mrs. Seymour, Calantha wept for her fault; it was infatuation, she said, she was cured: thelesson, though somewhat harsh, had not been fruitless. Again, she made every promise, which affection and repentance could suggest. She heard the name of her husband pronounced, and longed to throw herself before him, and commend herself to his mercy. I do repent, indeed I do, said Calantha, repeatedly in the course of the day; and she thought her penitence had been sincere. Humbled now, and gentle, she thought only of pleasing her aunt, Lord Avondale, and her friends. She was desired to play during the evening: to shew her ready obedience she immediately obeyed. Lord Glenarvon was in an adjoining room; he entered when she began: springing up, Lady Avondale left the harp; then, seeing Lord Avondale surprised, she prepared to tune it.Lord Glenarvon approached, and offered her his hand, she refused it. “Will you play?” he said—and she turned the key with so much force that it broke thechords asunder. “You have wound them too tight, and played upon them too often,” he said. “Trifle not with me thus—I cannot play now,” she replied. “Leave me, I entreat you.” “You know not what you have done,” he replied. “All I ask—all I implore is, that you will neither come near me, nor speak to me more, for I am mad.” “Women always recover from these paroxysms,” said he, gaily. Calantha attempted to play, and did so extremely ill, after which she went to bed, happier, it must be owned, for she had seen in Lord Glenarvon’s manner that he was not indifferent, and this rendered it more easy for her to appear so.The next morning Lady Avondale went out immediately after breakfast, without speaking to Lord Glenarvon. He twice attempted it, but with real anger, she refused to hear him. It was late in the day, when, having sought for her before dinner, he at length found heralone. His voice faultered, his eyes were filled with tears. “Lady Avondale—Calantha,” he said, approaching her, “forgive me.—I ask it of you, and more, if you require it, I will kneel—will sue for it. You can make me what you please—I am wholly in your power.” “There is no need for this,” she said coldly.“I will not rise till you forgive me. If you knew all—if ... but can you indeed believe me indifferent, or cold? Look at me once: raise your eyes and behold him, who lives but in you.” “All this is useless, you have grieved me; but I do not mean to reproach, the idle complainings of a woman are ever useless.” “To think that she suffers,” said Glenarvon, “is enough. Look once—once only, look upon me.” “Let us part in peace,” she replied: “I have no complaint to make, I have nothing to forgive,” “raise your eyes, and look—Calantha look once on me.”She turned to him, she saw that face whose every feature was engraved deep in her very heart—that smile of sweetness—that calm serenity, she had not power to speak—to think; and yet recovering from this strange enchantment,—“How could you betray me?” she said. “I judge you not, but I can never feel either interest, or friendship again.” “Yet,” said Glenarvon gravely, “I need both at this time, for I am miserable and ill too, only I do not wish to excite your compassion by these arts, and I had rather die unforgiven, than use any towards you.”“Wherefore did you betray me?” “Can you ask? I was deeply wounded. It is not enough for me that you love me, all must, and shall know it. I will make every sacrifice for you—run every risk: but every risk and every sacrifice must be shared.” “Whatever my feelings may be,” she answered coldly, “you shall never subdue me again. I may beinfatuated, but I will never be criminal—You may torture me as you please, if you have the power over me which you imagine, but I can bear torture, and none ever yet subdued me.”“Calantha,” said Lord Glenarvon, taking her hand firmly, and smiling half scornfully, “you shall be my slave. I will mould you as I like; teach you to think but with my thoughts, to act but with my feelings, you shall wait nor murmur—suffer, nor dare complain—ask, and be rejected—and all this, I will do, and you know it, for your heart is already mine.” “If I forgive you,” she cried, “If you do not” he said, approaching nearer. “I never will.” “And ’till you do, though your whole family should enter, I will kneel here—here, even at your feet.” “You think to menace me.” “I know my empire. Take off those ornaments: replace what I have given you: this too you shall wear,” he said, throwing a chain around her,“Turn from me if you can: the heart that I have won, you cannot reclaim, and though the hand be thus denied me, this, this is mine.” Saying this, he pressed her lips to his, a strange feeling thrilled to her heart as she attempted vainly to hate him, or extricate herself from his embrace. “I love you to madness,” he said, and you distract me. “Trust yourself entirely to me, it is the only means of safety left. Yes, Calantha, I will do for you, what no man ever did before. If it destroy me, I will never lead you to guilt, only rely upon me, be guided by me.” “You ran the risk she said, of our being separated for ever, of making my aunt miserable. Of——.” “Nonsense child, I never risk any thing, it was necessary your aunt should know, and the fear of losing you entirely will make her readily consent to my seeing you more than ever,” “Oh God! what guilt. Think not that my attachment is such as to bear it.” “It shall bear allthings,” said Glenarvon; “but if you sacrifice what I desire, I will conquer every wrong feeling for your sake? Our friendship will then be innocent.” “Not absolutely ... indeed I fear it; and if——” “Ah! leave these gloomy thoughts. If love should triumph—if you feel half for me, what I feel from my soul for you, then you shall accompany me from hence. Avondale may easily find another wife, but the world contains for me but one Calantha.”Lady Avondale felt happy.—Shame on the guilty heart that dared to feel so! but alas, whilst Glenarvon thus addressed her, she did feel most happy. In a moment, the gloom that had overshadowed her future hopes, was dispelled. She saw her lover—her friend more than ever united to her. He consented even to respect what remaining virtue she had left, and from his gentle, his courteous words, it was not her wish to escape. Yet still she resolved to leave him. Now,that peace was again restored, that her irritated mind was calm, that her vanity was flattered, and her pride satisfied, now the admonitions of her aunt recurred, and even while her heart beat fondest for him, she pronounced her own doom, and declared to him that she would tear herself away from him for ever. “Perhaps this must be,” he said, after a moment’s pause; “but not yet, Calantha, ah not yet.” As he spoke, he again pressed her to his bosom, and his tears fell over her. Oh! had he not thus wept, Calantha had not loved him. Struggling with his feelings for her, he generously resolved to save, to spare her. “Remember this,” he said, “when they condemn me.—Remember, Calantha, what I have done for you; how I have respected you; and let not their idle clamours prevail.”Lady Avondale was too happy to feel vain. Glenarvon loved, as she never had been loved before, every hour—everymoment of each passing day he seemed alone intent, and occupied with her; he wrote his minutest thoughts; he counselled, he did not command. He saw that power, ambition, was her ruling passion, and by affecting to be ruled, he completely mastered her—in word, in look, in thought, he was devoted to her. Other men think only of themselves; Glenarvon conquered himself a thousand times for her. What is a momentary, a degrading passion to the enjoyment she felt in his society? It only lowers the object of its fancy, he sought to raise her even in her own esteem. “Forgive her, pity us,” he said, addressing Mrs. Seymour, who saw in a moment, with alarm, their reconciliation. “Drive us not to despair, I will respect her—will preserve her, if you do not attempt to tear her from me, but dread the violence of madness, if you reduce us to the last rash step. Oh dreadthe violence of a mad and incurable attachment.”Calantha’s sole attention was now to hide from those it might grieve, the change which a few days had again wrought. She appeared at dinner, she seated herself opposite to Glenarvon. There was no look of exultation in his countenance, his eyes met her’s mournfully. The diamond bracelets that adorned her arms, had been given her by him; the chain and locket which contained his dark hair, had been placed around her neck in token of his regard; the clasp that fastened the band around her waist, was composed of richest jewels brought by him from distant countries; and the heart that was thus girt round and encircled with his gifts, beat only for him, regardless of every other tie. “Oh my child! my child!” said Mrs. Seymour, gazing on her in agony. “I will never reproach you, but do not break myheart. You are ill in mind and health, you know not what you say or do; God forgive and pardon you, my unhappy Calantha!” “Bear with me a few moments,” said Lady Avondale much agitated: “I will part from him; only give me time. Fear me not: I will neither leave you nor act wickedly, but if you seek too hastily to sever us, oh my aunt, you may be the means of driving two desperate minds to misery and madness.”
Few women know how to conceal successful love, but none can conceal their doubt, resentment and jealousy. Men can do both, and both without a struggle. They feel less, and fear more. But this was not the case with Lord Glenarvon, nor did he wish to appear indifferent; he only wished Calantha to feel his power, and he delighted in the exhibition of it. In vain she had formed the best resolutions, they were now all rendered useless. Lord Glenarvon had forestalled her wise intention, no coldness—no indifference she could assume, had equalled that, which he either affected or felt.
Upon the bosom of Mrs. Seymour, Calantha wept for her fault; it was infatuation, she said, she was cured: thelesson, though somewhat harsh, had not been fruitless. Again, she made every promise, which affection and repentance could suggest. She heard the name of her husband pronounced, and longed to throw herself before him, and commend herself to his mercy. I do repent, indeed I do, said Calantha, repeatedly in the course of the day; and she thought her penitence had been sincere. Humbled now, and gentle, she thought only of pleasing her aunt, Lord Avondale, and her friends. She was desired to play during the evening: to shew her ready obedience she immediately obeyed. Lord Glenarvon was in an adjoining room; he entered when she began: springing up, Lady Avondale left the harp; then, seeing Lord Avondale surprised, she prepared to tune it.
Lord Glenarvon approached, and offered her his hand, she refused it. “Will you play?” he said—and she turned the key with so much force that it broke thechords asunder. “You have wound them too tight, and played upon them too often,” he said. “Trifle not with me thus—I cannot play now,” she replied. “Leave me, I entreat you.” “You know not what you have done,” he replied. “All I ask—all I implore is, that you will neither come near me, nor speak to me more, for I am mad.” “Women always recover from these paroxysms,” said he, gaily. Calantha attempted to play, and did so extremely ill, after which she went to bed, happier, it must be owned, for she had seen in Lord Glenarvon’s manner that he was not indifferent, and this rendered it more easy for her to appear so.
The next morning Lady Avondale went out immediately after breakfast, without speaking to Lord Glenarvon. He twice attempted it, but with real anger, she refused to hear him. It was late in the day, when, having sought for her before dinner, he at length found heralone. His voice faultered, his eyes were filled with tears. “Lady Avondale—Calantha,” he said, approaching her, “forgive me.—I ask it of you, and more, if you require it, I will kneel—will sue for it. You can make me what you please—I am wholly in your power.” “There is no need for this,” she said coldly.
“I will not rise till you forgive me. If you knew all—if ... but can you indeed believe me indifferent, or cold? Look at me once: raise your eyes and behold him, who lives but in you.” “All this is useless, you have grieved me; but I do not mean to reproach, the idle complainings of a woman are ever useless.” “To think that she suffers,” said Glenarvon, “is enough. Look once—once only, look upon me.” “Let us part in peace,” she replied: “I have no complaint to make, I have nothing to forgive,” “raise your eyes, and look—Calantha look once on me.”
She turned to him, she saw that face whose every feature was engraved deep in her very heart—that smile of sweetness—that calm serenity, she had not power to speak—to think; and yet recovering from this strange enchantment,—“How could you betray me?” she said. “I judge you not, but I can never feel either interest, or friendship again.” “Yet,” said Glenarvon gravely, “I need both at this time, for I am miserable and ill too, only I do not wish to excite your compassion by these arts, and I had rather die unforgiven, than use any towards you.”
“Wherefore did you betray me?” “Can you ask? I was deeply wounded. It is not enough for me that you love me, all must, and shall know it. I will make every sacrifice for you—run every risk: but every risk and every sacrifice must be shared.” “Whatever my feelings may be,” she answered coldly, “you shall never subdue me again. I may beinfatuated, but I will never be criminal—You may torture me as you please, if you have the power over me which you imagine, but I can bear torture, and none ever yet subdued me.”
“Calantha,” said Lord Glenarvon, taking her hand firmly, and smiling half scornfully, “you shall be my slave. I will mould you as I like; teach you to think but with my thoughts, to act but with my feelings, you shall wait nor murmur—suffer, nor dare complain—ask, and be rejected—and all this, I will do, and you know it, for your heart is already mine.” “If I forgive you,” she cried, “If you do not” he said, approaching nearer. “I never will.” “And ’till you do, though your whole family should enter, I will kneel here—here, even at your feet.” “You think to menace me.” “I know my empire. Take off those ornaments: replace what I have given you: this too you shall wear,” he said, throwing a chain around her,“Turn from me if you can: the heart that I have won, you cannot reclaim, and though the hand be thus denied me, this, this is mine.” Saying this, he pressed her lips to his, a strange feeling thrilled to her heart as she attempted vainly to hate him, or extricate herself from his embrace. “I love you to madness,” he said, and you distract me. “Trust yourself entirely to me, it is the only means of safety left. Yes, Calantha, I will do for you, what no man ever did before. If it destroy me, I will never lead you to guilt, only rely upon me, be guided by me.” “You ran the risk she said, of our being separated for ever, of making my aunt miserable. Of——.” “Nonsense child, I never risk any thing, it was necessary your aunt should know, and the fear of losing you entirely will make her readily consent to my seeing you more than ever,” “Oh God! what guilt. Think not that my attachment is such as to bear it.” “It shall bear allthings,” said Glenarvon; “but if you sacrifice what I desire, I will conquer every wrong feeling for your sake? Our friendship will then be innocent.” “Not absolutely ... indeed I fear it; and if——” “Ah! leave these gloomy thoughts. If love should triumph—if you feel half for me, what I feel from my soul for you, then you shall accompany me from hence. Avondale may easily find another wife, but the world contains for me but one Calantha.”
Lady Avondale felt happy.—Shame on the guilty heart that dared to feel so! but alas, whilst Glenarvon thus addressed her, she did feel most happy. In a moment, the gloom that had overshadowed her future hopes, was dispelled. She saw her lover—her friend more than ever united to her. He consented even to respect what remaining virtue she had left, and from his gentle, his courteous words, it was not her wish to escape. Yet still she resolved to leave him. Now,that peace was again restored, that her irritated mind was calm, that her vanity was flattered, and her pride satisfied, now the admonitions of her aunt recurred, and even while her heart beat fondest for him, she pronounced her own doom, and declared to him that she would tear herself away from him for ever. “Perhaps this must be,” he said, after a moment’s pause; “but not yet, Calantha, ah not yet.” As he spoke, he again pressed her to his bosom, and his tears fell over her. Oh! had he not thus wept, Calantha had not loved him. Struggling with his feelings for her, he generously resolved to save, to spare her. “Remember this,” he said, “when they condemn me.—Remember, Calantha, what I have done for you; how I have respected you; and let not their idle clamours prevail.”
Lady Avondale was too happy to feel vain. Glenarvon loved, as she never had been loved before, every hour—everymoment of each passing day he seemed alone intent, and occupied with her; he wrote his minutest thoughts; he counselled, he did not command. He saw that power, ambition, was her ruling passion, and by affecting to be ruled, he completely mastered her—in word, in look, in thought, he was devoted to her. Other men think only of themselves; Glenarvon conquered himself a thousand times for her. What is a momentary, a degrading passion to the enjoyment she felt in his society? It only lowers the object of its fancy, he sought to raise her even in her own esteem. “Forgive her, pity us,” he said, addressing Mrs. Seymour, who saw in a moment, with alarm, their reconciliation. “Drive us not to despair, I will respect her—will preserve her, if you do not attempt to tear her from me, but dread the violence of madness, if you reduce us to the last rash step. Oh dreadthe violence of a mad and incurable attachment.”
Calantha’s sole attention was now to hide from those it might grieve, the change which a few days had again wrought. She appeared at dinner, she seated herself opposite to Glenarvon. There was no look of exultation in his countenance, his eyes met her’s mournfully. The diamond bracelets that adorned her arms, had been given her by him; the chain and locket which contained his dark hair, had been placed around her neck in token of his regard; the clasp that fastened the band around her waist, was composed of richest jewels brought by him from distant countries; and the heart that was thus girt round and encircled with his gifts, beat only for him, regardless of every other tie. “Oh my child! my child!” said Mrs. Seymour, gazing on her in agony. “I will never reproach you, but do not break myheart. You are ill in mind and health, you know not what you say or do; God forgive and pardon you, my unhappy Calantha!” “Bear with me a few moments,” said Lady Avondale much agitated: “I will part from him; only give me time. Fear me not: I will neither leave you nor act wickedly, but if you seek too hastily to sever us, oh my aunt, you may be the means of driving two desperate minds to misery and madness.”