Alida Part 13

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

May he again return, and with him bring A soft serenity on pleasure's wing; While anxious fears, and doubt, shall disappear, The heavy mists of gloomy thought to clear.

The scenes of solitude were now more pleasing to Alida than ever. She loved to wander through the shady grove and lonely valley, and adapt their retirement to her own particular situation. She would often stray as far as the cottage or the farmhouse, at a little distance, and would sometimes take the winding path through a beautiful piece of wood which led to Raymond's, where the thick foliage formed a grateful shade.

There she would indulge herself in solitary thought. "How changeable are all things terrestrial," said she, "the varied year has its seasons, and winter and summer are constantly in pursuit of each other. The elements are frequently disturbed by storms and tempests, so, in like manner, is the human breast at intervals troubled and discomposed, and often remains overshadowed with pensive sadness and cheerless reverie; and these desponding ideas must continue to have influence over the mind, till the sunshine of reason and religion kindly dispels the gloom, and awakens anew the feelings of the heart to the rays of hope and more enlivening sensations." She had just returned home one afternoon from Raymond's, when her brother, who had been absent on business to the city, drove up the avenue, accompanied by Mr. More.

Albert informed his sister of the arrival of Theodore. She almost fainted at the intelligence, so unexpected: and although she wished of all things, to learn all the circ.u.mstances attending his absence, yet she dreaded the event, to behold him again, fearing the truth of Bonville's suggestions.

In the midst of these thoughts and fears, Theodore alighted at the house, and was shown by the servant into the drawing-room.

Theodore, regardless of all around him, as soon as he beheld Alida, he grasped her hand, exclaiming with rapture, "Has the period at length arrived, and am I indeed once more so happy as to meet again my much-esteemed and long-lost friend."

Alida gazed on him in silence. He saw her extreme agitation, and after they were seated, he observed more particularly her altered appearance.

What surprise and grief was manifest in his countenance, when he saw the paleness of her cheek, and the roses that once spread their healthy hue over them, now seemed fled for ever. In a length of time, she became somewhat more composed; but in what light to consider Theodore, she yet did not know, and former ideas still clouded her imagination.

At length she a.s.sumed sufficient courage, to ask him, why he had not thought proper to inform any of his friends of the circ.u.mstances attending his absence.

Theodore could scarcely remain silent while Alida was speaking; he was surprised beyond all description at what he heard. "Can it be possible,"

said he, "that you have missed of information concerning me, when I delayed not to inform you of all my movements, every opportunity I had to convey intelligence." He then informed her that the letters had been sent to Raymond, and those for herself were enclosed, and committed to his care; and through this channel, he had related minutely all the various trials and circ.u.mstances attending his unexpected journey, and the cause of his protracted stay. Alida was evidently convinced, and appeared again a.s.sured of the truth of her lover. The energy with which he spoke, his agitated feelings, joined to the distress visible in his countenance, convinced her of his sincerity, at least caused her to doubt, what a few moments before appeared so incontestible: and her present happiness fully compensated for the lengthy period of distress and anxiety she had experienced.

Albert was delighted at the return of Theodore, and highly gratified in his hopes, to find in his early friend, still the man of honour he had ever considered him. He had never once mentioned his name to Alida during their separation; although his thoughts often revolved on the unhappy result of their acquaintance, and the future welfare of his sister.

Mr. More was a silent spectator of this joyful meeting. He now beheld the person who had been so happy as to win the esteem and affections of Alida, a person that he had heard spoken of, though it had appeared that he never expected to see.

He witnessed the happy meeting. Sighs and tears from this time were his only companions, while his aspect pourtrayed nought but anguish and utter despair. He looked upon this happy pair as already united. He shed tears of evident anguish, when he took leave of Alida, and his looks told her it must now be forever.

The evening was not far advanced, when Bonville, who was altogether ignorant of Theodore's arrival, unexpectedly made his appearance. Struck with the utmost consternation at seeing him, he involuntarily receded a few paces, then suddenly advancing, as if recollecting himself, he gave him his hand with seeming cordiality.

The natural politeness and civility of the other supplied the place of a more cordial reception.

Ten thousand fears at once agitated the bosom of Bonville, while he appeared half frantic with grief and apprehension. Dismay threw a sudden cloud over his understanding; he was confused in the extreme. He had intercepted all the letters of Theodore; he secretly reproached himself for his treacherous conduct.

He now saw the termination of all his hopes. Disappointment he could not brook, his pride could never submit to it with any degree of resignation, and the bitterness that pervaded his mind, almost bordered on phrenzy.

His conscience reproved him for reiterated misrepresentations and calumnies of Theodore, with which he had harra.s.sed the mind of Alida. He knew that a discovery must now be made of his perfidy, and on his return home to the village, he was confined to his room with a sudden illness, succeeded by a dangerous fever.

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

O, time! roll on thy wheels, and bring around the period, when social joy shall smile before me; when in the vernal day of life, or evening serene, I grow of one dear object more and more enamoured; while my remembrance swells with many a proof of interested friendship.

The present situation of Albert was happily independent. The prolific soil of the estate, on which he lived, furnished him with an ample abundance. The prospect that surrounded him was inimitably beautiful, and the peculiar advantages of his eligible situation, was the admiration of the stranger who frequented the vicinity, or resorted in the summer season to the neighbouring village.

Albert had descended from an ancient family, he had an estate to preserve, but not an entailed one, as was the case with many of his family, at this time in England.

He was a gentleman, placid, humane and generous; altogether unacquainted with that ambition which sacrifices every thing to the desire of fortune, and the superfluous splendour that follows in her train. He was unacquainted with love too, the supreme power of which absorbs and concentrates all our faculties upon one sole object. That age of innocent pleasure, and of confident credulity, when the heart is yet a novice and follows the impulse of youthful sensibility, and bestows itself unreservedly upon the object of disinterested affection; then, surely, friendship is not a name. Albert, during his abode in the city, had a.s.sociated with ladies of rank, beauty and accomplishments. He was a general favourite among them; he had been flattered, courted and caressed, but none had the power to fix his attention. Since his return to the country, he had been frequently invited to a.s.semble among the artless villagers, decorated in their own native beauty, a.s.sisted sometimes for ornament with the spoils of Flora. Health, pleasure and naivette, was in the air of these charmers, and all that was pleasing to win his regard and esteem. These scenes of rural pleasure, these social parties, were adapted to his taste. In comparison of which the gay a.s.semblages of the city had been formerly uninteresting; and he had been heard to say, that whenever his mind should become fixed, his choice would be some lady who resided in the country.

Although Albert experienced a degree of happiness and contentment unknown to many, in his present situation, yet he sometimes felt himself very lonely.

Alida was anxious that her brother should look out for a suitable companion; if he could be fortunate enough to find one that was amiable and sensible, and whose actions should be under the influence of genuine piety; one who would be ambitious to preserve domestic sunshine, by the goodness and equanimity of her disposition; who would have a tear for distress, a heart for friendship and love, exerted in benevolence and charity, and in the mean time have a care to the good order and arrangement of domestic duties and economy.

Albert often descanted in conversation with his friends, on the general neglect of female education, which consisted of a few trifling embellishments, while those of the more substantial order were left out of the question. He thought that young ladies generally were not sufficiently learned in the solid branches, to exercise their mental powers to advantage, or to be agreeable, intelligent companions.

"If it be true," said he, "that our pleasures are chiefly of a comparative or reflected kind, how supreme must be theirs, who continually reflect on each other the portraitures of happiness, whose amus.e.m.e.nts

"Though varied still, are still the same In infinite progression."

"How tranquil must be the state of that bosom, which has, as it were, a door perpetually open to the reception of joy or departure of pain, by uninterrupted confidence in, and sympathy with, the object of its affection!" "I know of no part of the single life," said Albert, "more irksome than the privation we feel by it, of any friendly breast wherein to pour our delights, or from whence to extract an antidote for whatever may chance to distress us."

"The mind of a good man is rather communicative than torpid. If so, how often may a person of even the best principles, expose himself to very disagreeable sensations, from sentiments inadvertently dropped, or a confidence improperly reposed. What but silence can be recommended, since, in breaking it, so much danger is incurred among those who are little interested in our welfare? A good heart, it is true, need not fear the exposition of its amiable contents. But, is it always a security for us, that we mean well, when our expressions are liable to be misconstrued by such as appear to lay in wait only to pervert them to some ungenerous purpose?"

"The charms, then, of social life, and the sweets of domestic conversation, are pre-eminent. What more agreeable than the converse of an intelligent, amiable, interesting friend; and who more intelligent than a well educated female? What more engaging than gentleness and sensibility itself? Or what friend more interesting, than one we have selected from the whole world, as a companion in every vicissitude of life?"

"If either party be versed in music, what a tide of innocent pleasure must it prove, to be able to soothe in adversity, to humanize in prosperity, to compose in jargon, and to command serenity in every situation? How charming a relaxation from the necessary avocations of business on the one hand, and the employments at home, in domestic affairs, on the other! And as a finale, to chant the praises of the Almighty in hymns of praise and thanksgiving."

Albert had lately made several visits at some distance from home, where he had told his sister, were several young ladies, who were very agreeable. Alida did not think this of any importance, as she knew her brother heretofore had been difficult to please. She was one day rather surprised, when he wished her to accompany him thither. She declined the invitation, however, not thinking he wished it for any particular reason.

In the course of a few days he pressed her again to go with him. Alida now thought she would accompany him, if it was only out of curiosity.

When they arrived at the house of Albert's new acquaintance, several ladies were introduced one after the other, and Alida soon found, that one of them had arrested the attention of her brother particularly. She, however, thought him rather premature, as he had so recently become acquainted with the family. On their return home, he gave her to understand, that his affections were engaged, and in the course of a few months, she was called on to attend their nuptials.

The appearance of Eliza was interesting; she was tall and graceful. Her large dark hazel eyes sparkled beneath a beautiful arched eyebrow, and her transparent complexion was shaded and adorned by profuse locks of dark brown hair.

In the meantime Albert appeared perfectly happy, that he had at length found a fair one to please him, and shortly after he returned home with his bride, with sanguine expectations before him, antic.i.p.ating much future happiness.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

"On punit plus severement un ennemi par le mepris et par l'oubli, que par les chatimens les plus rigorieux: c'est, pour ainsi dire, le reduire au neant."

The disagreeable facts so long in detail, had now taken a new turn for the better, and Theodore and Alida were again in possession of more than former felicity, after their long separation. Alida soon began to recover in some degree her native cheerfulness, soothing the bosom of her lover with her grief-dispersing smile. The unpleasant fears that had such a length of time harra.s.sed her mind, were now happily terminated by the return of Theodore and the clearing up of all doubts and suspicions concerning him, to the utter confusion of Bonville. All her corroding anxieties were now removed, and recent events had made her happy in comparison to what she was a few weeks before, and her present consolation fully compensated for all the preceding months of unhappiness.

Theodore was again happy in the society of Alida, the pensive sweetness of her manner, her innate goodness, and amiability, which had attracted and secured the early affections of his heart, and made impressions that could never be obliterated. He gave a minute account of all that had happened, from the time they had parted until they had met again.

He had visited the merchants in England with whom his father had been concerned in business, and he found as he expected, that he had been overreached by swindlers and sharpers. The pretended failure of the merchants with whom he was in company, was all a sham, as, also, the reported loss of the ships in their employ. The merchants had fled to England; he had them arrested, and they had given up their effects to much more than the amount of their debts. He therefore procured a reversion of his father's losses, with costs, damages and interests, when legally stated.

Theodore then made his next visit to Raymond's. His friends were joyfully surprised at his arrival. He stayed the night and related a long narrative to his friend. Early next day he proceeded from thence to his father's house, where he arrived after a considerable journey.

Theodore found his parents more happy than he expected. With abundant joy they welcomed him whom they had given up for lost.