Alonzo and Melissa Part 2

She was still silent.

Al. Will you, Melissa, answer me one question?

Mel. (confused.) If it be a proper one you are ent.i.tled to candour.

Al. Are you engaged to Beauman?

Mel. (blushing.) He has asked me the same question concerning you.

Al. Do you prefer him to any other?

Mel. (deeply blushing, her eyes cast upon the floor.) He has made the same enquiry respecting you.

Al. Has he asked your father's permission to address you?

Mel. That I have not suffered him yet to do.

Al. Yet!

Mel. I a.s.sure you I have not.

Al. (taking her hand with anxiety.) Melissa, I beg you will deal candidly. I am ent.i.tled to no claims, but you know what my heart would ask. I will bow to your decision. Beauman or Alonzo must relinquish their pretensions. We cannot share the blessing.

Mel. (her cheeks suffused with a varying glow, her lips pale, her voice tremulous, her eyes still cast down.) My parents have informed me that it is improper to receive the particular addresses of more than one.

I am conscious of my inadvertency, and that the reproof is just. One therefore must be dismissed. But--(she hesitated.)

A considerable pause ensued. At length Alonzo arose--"I will not press you farther," said he; "I know the delicacy of your feeling, I know your sincerity; I will not therefore insist on your performing the painful task of deciding against me. Your conduct in every point of view has been discreet. I could have no just claims, or if I had, your heart must sanction them, or they would be unhallowed and unjustifiable. I shall ever pray for your felicity.--Our affections are not under our direction; our happiness depends on our obedience to their mandates.

Whatever, then, may be my sufferings, you are unblameable and irreproachable." He took his hat in extreme agitation, and prepared to take his leave.

Melissa had recovered in some degree from her embarra.s.sment, and collected her scattered spirits. "Your conduct, Alonzo, said she, is generous and n.o.ble. Will you give yourself the trouble, and do me the honour to see me once more?" "I will, said he, at any time you shall appoint."--"Four weeks then, she said, from this day, honour me with a visit, and you shall have my decision, and receive my final answer."

"I will be punctual to the day," he replied, and bade her adieu.

Alonzo's hours now winged heavily away. His wonted cheerfulness fled; he wooed the silent and solitary haunts of "musing, moping melancholy."

He loved to wander through lonely fields, or along the verge of some lingering stream, "when dewy twilight rob'd the evening mild," or "to trace the forest glen, through which the moon darted her silvery intercepted ray."

He was fondly indulging a tender pa.s.sion which preyed upon his peace, and deeply disturbed his repose. He looked anxiously to the hour when Melissa was to make her decision. He wished, yet dreaded the event.

In that he foresaw, or thought he foresaw, a withering blight to his budding hopes, and a final consummation to his foreboding fears. He had pressed Melissa, perhaps too urgently, to a declaration.--Had her predilection been in his favour, would she have hesitated to avow it?

Her parents had advised her to relinquish, and had permitted her to retain one suitor, nor had they attempted to influence or direct her choice. Was it not evident, then, from her confused hesitation and embarra.s.sment, when solicited to discriminate upon the subject, that her ultimate decision would be in favour of Beauman?

While Alonzo's mind was thus agitated, he received a second letter from his friend in the neighbourhood of Melissa. He read the following clause therein with emotions more easily to be conceived than expressed:

"Melissa's wedding day is appointed. I need not tell you that Beauman is to be the happy deity of the hymeneal sacrifice. I had this from his own declaration. He did not name the positive day, but it is certainly to be soon. You will undoubtedly, however, have timely notice, as a guest. We must pour a liberal libation upon the mystic altar, Alonzo, and twine the nuptial garland with wreaths of joy. Beauman ought to devote a rich offering to so valuable a prize. He has been here for a week, and departed for New-London yesterday, but is shortly to return."

"And why have I ever doubted this event? said Alonzo. What infatuation hath thus led me on the pursuit of fantastic and unreal bliss? I have had, it is true, no positive a.s.surance that Melissa would favour my addresses. But why did she ever receive them? Why did she enchantingly smile upon me? Why fascinate the tender powers of my soul by that winning mildness, and the favourable display of those complicated and superior attractions which she must have known were irresistible?--Why did she not spurn me from her confidence, and plainly tell me that my attentions were untimely and improper? And now she would have me dance attendance to her decision in favour of Beauman--Insulting! Let Beauman and she make, as they have formed, this farcical decision; I absolutely will never attend it.--But stop: I have engaged to see her at an appointed time; my honour is therefore pledged for an interview; it must take place. I shall support it with becoming dignity, and I will convince Melissa and Beauman that I am not the dupe of their caprices.

But let me consider--What has Melissa done to deserve censure or reproach? Her brother was my early friend: she has treated me as a friend to her brother. She was unconscious of the flame which her charms had kindled in my bosom.--Her evident embarra.s.sment and confusion on receiving my declaration, witnessed her surprise and prior attachment.

What could she do? To save herself the pain of a direct denial, she had appointed a day when her refusal may come in a more delicate and formal manner--and I must meet it."

At the appointed day, Alonzo proceeded to the house of Melissa's father, where he arrived late in the afternoon. Melissa had retired to a little summer house at the end of the garden; a servant conducted Alonzo thither. She was dressed in a flowing robe of white muslin, embroidered with a deep fringe lace. Her hair hung loosely upon her shoulders; she was contemplating a bouquet of flowers which she held in her hand.

Alonzo fancied she never appeared so lovely. She arose to receive him.

"We have been expecting you some time, said Melissa; we were anxious to inform you, that we have just received a letter from my brother, in which he desires us to present you his most friendly respects, and complains of your not writing to him lately so frequently as usual."

Alonzo thanked her for the information; said that business prevented him; he esteemed him as his most valuable friend, and would be more particular in future.

"We have been thronged with company for several days, said Melissa. Once a year my father celebrates his birth day, when we are honoured with so numerous a company of uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews and nieces, that were you present, you would suppose we were connected with half the families in Connecticut. The last of this company took their departure yesterday, and I have only to regret, that I have for nearly a week, been prevented from visiting my favourite hill, to which you attended me when you was last here. It is much improved since then: I have had a little arbour built under the large tree on its summit: you will have no objection to view it, Alonzo?" He a.s.sured her he accepted the invitation with pleasure, and towards evening they resorted to the place and seated themselves in the arbour.

It was the beginning of autumn, and a yellow hue was spread over the fading charms of nature. The withering forest began to shed its decaying foliage, which the light gales pursued along the russet fields. The low sun extended the lengthening shadows; curling smoke ascended from the surrounding cottages. A thick fog crept along the vallies; a gray mist hovered over the tops of the mountains. The gla.s.sy surface of the sound glittered to the sun's departing ray. The solemn herds lowed in monotonous symphony. The autumnal insects in sympathetic wafting, plaintively predicted their approaching fate. "The scene is changed since we last visited this place, said Melissa; the gay charms of summer are beginning to decay, and must soon yield their splendors to the rude despoiling hand of winter."

"That will be the case, said Alonzo, before I shall have the pleasure of your company here again."

Mel. That probably may be, though it is nearly two months yet to winter.

Al. Great changes may take place within that time.

Mel. Yes, changes must take place; but nothing, I hope, to embitter present prospects.

Al. (peevishly.) As it respects yourself, I trust not, madam.

Mel. (tenderly.) And I sincerely hope not, as it respects you, Alonzo.

Al. That wish, I believe, is vain.

Mel. Why so ominous a prediction?

Al. The premises, from which it is drawn, are correct.

Mel. Your feelings accord with the season, Alonzo; you are melancholy.

Shall we return?

Al. I ask your pardon, madam; I know I am unsociable. You speak of returning: You know the occasion of my being here.

Mel. For the purpose of visiting your friends, I presume.

Al. And no other?

She made no reply.

Al. You cannot have forgotten your own appointment, and consequent engagement?

She made no answer.

Al. I know, Melissa, that you are incapable of duplicity or evasion.

I have promised, and now repeat the declaration, that I will silently submit to your decision. This you have engaged to make, and this is the time you have appointed. The pains of present suspense can scarcely be surpa.s.sed by the pangs of disappointment. On your part you have nothing to fear. I trust you have candidly determined, and will decide explicitly.

Mel. (sighing.) I am placed in an exceedingly delicate situation.

Al. I know you are; but your own honour, your own peace, require that you should extricate yourself from the perplexing embarra.s.sment.

Mel. I am sensible they do. It must--it shall be done.