CHAPTER XXXII.It was past three o’clock, when Calantha opened the cabinet where the page’s clothes were formerly kept, and drew from thence his mantle and plumed hat; and, thus disguised, prepared herself for the interview. She slowly descended the stairs: the noisy revels of the servants might still at intervals be heard: in a moment she glided through the apartments and passages, till she found herself at the door which led to the terrace. It opened heavily, and closed again with a loud noise. Alarmed, lest she should be discovered, she flew with rapidity over the terrace and lawn, till she approached the wood, and then she paused to take breath, and to listen if all were silent.Calantha walked fearfully onwards. The first night on which she had metGlenarvon the moon was bright and full, and the whole scene was lighted by its rays; but now, it was on the wane—the silver crescent shone alone, and the clouds continually passing over it, cast fearful shadows upon the grass. She found herself in the thickest part of the wood. She heard a hollow murmur:—it was but the alders, waving in the wind, which made a tremulous noise like voices whispering at a distance. She passed on, and the recollection that it was to Glenarvon that she was hastening, and that it was probably for the last time, made her indifferent to her fate, and rendered her fearless. Besides, the desperate and the guilty never fear: a deeper feeling renders them callous to all beside—a spirit of defiance deadens in them the very edge of apprehension. She proceeded to the appointed place. The sea dashed against the cliff below; and the bleak wind whistled through the ruined chapel as it came in hollow blasts over the heath.Calantha perceived Glenarvon. He was leaning upon one of the broken rocks: he viewed, unawed, the melancholy scene before him. No superstitious terrors had power to shake his soul: misery had done its utmost to subdue him. Nor ray of hope, nor prosperity, could afford him comfort, or remove his dejection. In the first transports of joy at seeing him, she darted towards him; but when she marked the paleness of his cheeks, and the stillness of his attitude, she started back, and advanced slowly: for she feared to disturb him.The evening breeze had blown back his dark locks, and bared his pale forehead, upon which the light of the moonbeam fell. She gazed upon him; and while she contemplated the beautiful majesty of his figure, his fixed and mournful eyes, his countenance so fraught with feeling, she approached him. “My friend, my lover,” she said. “Ah! mylittle trembling page, my Zerbellini, welcome to my heart,” he answered: “I knew you would not fail; but I have waited for you till every bright illusion of hope has been changed into visions of despondency and fear. We meet now: but is it indeed to part no more! Glenarvon is yours, and shall never be severed from you.”“Ah! triumph over yourself and me,” she cried, clasping her hands in agony. “Ask any sacrifice but this. Do not make me contemptible to you and to myself.” “Calantha, the time for safety is past: it is too late now. I have linked my soul to yours; I love you in defiance of myself; I know it to be guilt, and to be death; but it must be. We follow but the dark destiny that involves us: we cannot escape from fate. For you alone I live:—be now but mine. They tell you of misery, of inconstancy, of lovers’ perjuries, from the olden time; but you shall prove them false. You leave much, it istrue—rank, fame and friends, a home and the dearest ties of a mother’s heart—children; but have you not embittered all that you relinquish? Say that I yield you up and fly,—to what fate shall I then consign you? to what endless repining, unjoyous solitary hours—remorse, regret, the bitter taunt of friends, the insulting scorn of strangers, and, worse than all—O! worse than all the recoiling heart can endure, the unsuspicious confidence and caresses of an injured husband, of him you have already betrayed. O Calantha, turn from these to a lover’s bosom; seek for comfort here; and now, even now, accompany me in my flight ..................................”“I will leave all for you:—I love but you: be you my master.” Scarce had she uttered the impious oath which bound her to him, when her heart, convulsed with terror, ceased to beat. “Tis but in words—oh God! ’tis but in words, that thy guilty servant has offended. No—evenin the delirium of passion, even in the transports of love, the fear of thy vengeance spake terrors into her soul, and ingratitude for all thy favours was not to be numbered with her sins.” But the oath which she had taken was terrible. She considered herself as no longer under the protection of her God. She trembled exceedingly; and fear for one moment overpowered her. Lord Glenarvon looked upon her, mournfully, as if sorry for the sin which he had cast upon her soul. “Now,” he said, “you will look back upon these moments, and you will consider me with abhorrence. I have led you with me to ruin and remorse.” “On me—on me, be the sin; let it fall upon me alone,” she replied; “but if, after this, you forsake me, then shall the vengeance of God be satisfied—the measure of my crime be at its full. It is not in my power—I cannot forsake you now: I will go with you, Glenarvon, if it were to certain death and ruin. I am yours alone.But this night I must return home,” she said. “I will not leave my father thus—I will not cause my aunt’s death.” “If you leave me now I shall lose you.” “O Glenarvon, let me return; and after seeing them once again, I will follow you firm until death.”He placed a ring upon her finger. “It is a marriage bond,” he said; “and if there be a God, let him now bear witness to my vows:—I here, uncompelled by menace, unsolicited by entreaty, do bind myself through life to you. No other, in word or thought, shall ever hold influence or power over my heart. This is no lover’s oath—no profession which the intoxication of passion may extort: it is the free and solemn purpose of a soul conquered and enchained by you. Oh Calantha, beloved, adored, look upon me, and say that you believe me. Lean not upon a lover’s bosom, but upon a friend, a guardian and protector, a being wholly relying on your mercy andkindness. My love, my soul, look yet once upon me.”“Why fall our tears? Is it in terror of approaching evil, or in regret for involuntary error? My bosom’s comfort, my soul’s idol, look not thus coldly on me; for I deserve it not. Your will is mine: lead me as it delights your fancy: I am a willing slave.” “If you abandon me,” said Calantha, in tears. “May the curse of God burn my heart and consume me! may every malediction and horror fall tenfold upon my head! may phrenzy and madness come upon my senses! and tortures in this world and the next be my portion, if ever I change my sentiments towards you!”With words like these, Glenarvon silenced her as she returned to the castle; and, strange as it may seem, untroubled sleep—such sleep as in better days she once enjoyed, fell upon all her senses, quieted every passion, and obliterated, for a few hours, the scenes of guilt which tortured her with their remembrance.
It was past three o’clock, when Calantha opened the cabinet where the page’s clothes were formerly kept, and drew from thence his mantle and plumed hat; and, thus disguised, prepared herself for the interview. She slowly descended the stairs: the noisy revels of the servants might still at intervals be heard: in a moment she glided through the apartments and passages, till she found herself at the door which led to the terrace. It opened heavily, and closed again with a loud noise. Alarmed, lest she should be discovered, she flew with rapidity over the terrace and lawn, till she approached the wood, and then she paused to take breath, and to listen if all were silent.
Calantha walked fearfully onwards. The first night on which she had metGlenarvon the moon was bright and full, and the whole scene was lighted by its rays; but now, it was on the wane—the silver crescent shone alone, and the clouds continually passing over it, cast fearful shadows upon the grass. She found herself in the thickest part of the wood. She heard a hollow murmur:—it was but the alders, waving in the wind, which made a tremulous noise like voices whispering at a distance. She passed on, and the recollection that it was to Glenarvon that she was hastening, and that it was probably for the last time, made her indifferent to her fate, and rendered her fearless. Besides, the desperate and the guilty never fear: a deeper feeling renders them callous to all beside—a spirit of defiance deadens in them the very edge of apprehension. She proceeded to the appointed place. The sea dashed against the cliff below; and the bleak wind whistled through the ruined chapel as it came in hollow blasts over the heath.
Calantha perceived Glenarvon. He was leaning upon one of the broken rocks: he viewed, unawed, the melancholy scene before him. No superstitious terrors had power to shake his soul: misery had done its utmost to subdue him. Nor ray of hope, nor prosperity, could afford him comfort, or remove his dejection. In the first transports of joy at seeing him, she darted towards him; but when she marked the paleness of his cheeks, and the stillness of his attitude, she started back, and advanced slowly: for she feared to disturb him.
The evening breeze had blown back his dark locks, and bared his pale forehead, upon which the light of the moonbeam fell. She gazed upon him; and while she contemplated the beautiful majesty of his figure, his fixed and mournful eyes, his countenance so fraught with feeling, she approached him. “My friend, my lover,” she said. “Ah! mylittle trembling page, my Zerbellini, welcome to my heart,” he answered: “I knew you would not fail; but I have waited for you till every bright illusion of hope has been changed into visions of despondency and fear. We meet now: but is it indeed to part no more! Glenarvon is yours, and shall never be severed from you.”
“Ah! triumph over yourself and me,” she cried, clasping her hands in agony. “Ask any sacrifice but this. Do not make me contemptible to you and to myself.” “Calantha, the time for safety is past: it is too late now. I have linked my soul to yours; I love you in defiance of myself; I know it to be guilt, and to be death; but it must be. We follow but the dark destiny that involves us: we cannot escape from fate. For you alone I live:—be now but mine. They tell you of misery, of inconstancy, of lovers’ perjuries, from the olden time; but you shall prove them false. You leave much, it istrue—rank, fame and friends, a home and the dearest ties of a mother’s heart—children; but have you not embittered all that you relinquish? Say that I yield you up and fly,—to what fate shall I then consign you? to what endless repining, unjoyous solitary hours—remorse, regret, the bitter taunt of friends, the insulting scorn of strangers, and, worse than all—O! worse than all the recoiling heart can endure, the unsuspicious confidence and caresses of an injured husband, of him you have already betrayed. O Calantha, turn from these to a lover’s bosom; seek for comfort here; and now, even now, accompany me in my flight ..................................”
“I will leave all for you:—I love but you: be you my master.” Scarce had she uttered the impious oath which bound her to him, when her heart, convulsed with terror, ceased to beat. “Tis but in words—oh God! ’tis but in words, that thy guilty servant has offended. No—evenin the delirium of passion, even in the transports of love, the fear of thy vengeance spake terrors into her soul, and ingratitude for all thy favours was not to be numbered with her sins.” But the oath which she had taken was terrible. She considered herself as no longer under the protection of her God. She trembled exceedingly; and fear for one moment overpowered her. Lord Glenarvon looked upon her, mournfully, as if sorry for the sin which he had cast upon her soul. “Now,” he said, “you will look back upon these moments, and you will consider me with abhorrence. I have led you with me to ruin and remorse.” “On me—on me, be the sin; let it fall upon me alone,” she replied; “but if, after this, you forsake me, then shall the vengeance of God be satisfied—the measure of my crime be at its full. It is not in my power—I cannot forsake you now: I will go with you, Glenarvon, if it were to certain death and ruin. I am yours alone.But this night I must return home,” she said. “I will not leave my father thus—I will not cause my aunt’s death.” “If you leave me now I shall lose you.” “O Glenarvon, let me return; and after seeing them once again, I will follow you firm until death.”
He placed a ring upon her finger. “It is a marriage bond,” he said; “and if there be a God, let him now bear witness to my vows:—I here, uncompelled by menace, unsolicited by entreaty, do bind myself through life to you. No other, in word or thought, shall ever hold influence or power over my heart. This is no lover’s oath—no profession which the intoxication of passion may extort: it is the free and solemn purpose of a soul conquered and enchained by you. Oh Calantha, beloved, adored, look upon me, and say that you believe me. Lean not upon a lover’s bosom, but upon a friend, a guardian and protector, a being wholly relying on your mercy andkindness. My love, my soul, look yet once upon me.”
“Why fall our tears? Is it in terror of approaching evil, or in regret for involuntary error? My bosom’s comfort, my soul’s idol, look not thus coldly on me; for I deserve it not. Your will is mine: lead me as it delights your fancy: I am a willing slave.” “If you abandon me,” said Calantha, in tears. “May the curse of God burn my heart and consume me! may every malediction and horror fall tenfold upon my head! may phrenzy and madness come upon my senses! and tortures in this world and the next be my portion, if ever I change my sentiments towards you!”
With words like these, Glenarvon silenced her as she returned to the castle; and, strange as it may seem, untroubled sleep—such sleep as in better days she once enjoyed, fell upon all her senses, quieted every passion, and obliterated, for a few hours, the scenes of guilt which tortured her with their remembrance.