Bungay Castle Part 11

"Let us then try the experiment as soon as possible, (replied Lady de Morney;) for I cannot help thinking, unless some change takes place for the better, our sweet Roseline, instead of bridal finery, will want only a winding sheet, and that she will be removed from the castle to her grave."

Sir Philip was displeased; he instantly left the room in order to avoid returning an answer which he well knew would have been succeeded by an altercation with his wife.--She saw he was angry, and therefore, though she was extremely anxious on her daughter's account, she determined for some time to remain a pa.s.sive observer, let what would be the consequence; but she did not experience that serenity of mind at forming this resolution which she had done on some former occasions, when she had sacrificed her own will to that of her husband; for, aspiring as she was by nature, and much as she was always attached to the gaudy trappings of grandeur and the alluring sounds of t.i.tle, she felt the life of her daughter, when put in compet.i.tion with them, or even the throne itself, was of infinitely more importance.

De Huntingfield was at this time absent from the castle. Elwyn very seldom mixed with his brother officers; Elwyn very seldom mixed with his brother officers; therefore De Clavering, De Willows, and Hugh Camelford, were ofter left to mess by themselves, the Baron not appearing to like being much in their society. They were too young and too pleasing in his opinion, and, as he could not help sometimes making comparisons not much to his own advantage, it was natural for him to think the young ladies might do the same. As the three gentlemen were returning from a walk, they saw the Baron, Sir Philip, his son, and daughters, going out for one. Observing the apparent reluctant step and pale countenance of Roseline, as she walked by the side of her stately and venerable over, and having picked up some hints which had been dropped at different times of the projected alliance, De Clavering, with some little indignation, exclaimed, "It will never do;--I see it will never do:--the girl's spirits are too low, her uncorrupted mind too pure, and her stomach too weak, to digest so much pride and acid as that old fellow had in his composition.

His love seems to have operated on her feelings as being so nearly allied to misery, that she has already caught the infection, and I wish in the end it may not prove an incurable disease. Upon my soul I do not wonder at it, for he acts upon my nerves like a torpedo, or rather as the Greek fire did upon our armies, exciting both fear and indignation."

"By heaven! (said De Willows,) the folly and ambition of parents, in respect to their children, are, in my opinion, the most unaccountable of human absurdities. They form plans from their own pa.s.sions and feelings, and then expect that young people can adopt them at their command, without making any allowance for the material difference between the sentiments, opinions, and inclinations, of nineteen and sixty."

"Suppose we all talk to the covernor, and toss the Paron into the rifer. A coot tucking might trive all the flames and darts of luf out of his pody, and restore the poor cirl from the crave, to which the toctor is for sending her like a tog, without giving time for Christian burial!"

"To argue, or contend with such characters (said De Clavering) would be like opposing a fiddle against thunder, or a squirt against a cataract in Switzerland."

"Then, on my soul, (replied Camelford,) you must take the Paron's pody under your own tirection. With your regimen, and a few of tevilish experiments, you will, Cot willing, soon dispatch him and his luf into another world."

"That, indeed, Hugh, would prove an effectual cure; but, in respect to the Baron, it would not be quite so easily accomplished; for I look upon him still to possess a const.i.tution that would set physic and even the doctor himself at defiance.--He seems formed to wrestle st.u.r.dily with death before he will be vanquished, or yield the contest."

"If you can once lay hold of him, and kif him some of your pills and potions, he would soon be clad to gif up the coast."

"What, then, (said De Clavering) you think me more dangerous than love?--That little, subtle, and revengeful G.o.d will one day bring you upon your knees before his shrine for the affront put upon his all subduing influence."

"He had petter let me alone, (replied the Cambrian,) I am not so plind as his tivine highness, and will nefer worship any cot put the crate Cot of heaven. Eteliza has taught you petter, De Willows: That girl's tell-tale eyes petray that luf has been pusy with more than one person."

De Clavering laughed at this unexpected attack upon his friend, who felt a painful consciousness that Camelford had more reason for his observation that he wished, the partiality of the artless Edeliza being too visible to be longer mistaken. On his own part, he had, from the first seeing Madeline, cherished an increasing affection for her, while her uniform and unaffected coldness, with the preference she had shewn to another, too well convinced him he had nothing to hope; neither could he any longer affect to be blind to the mutual attachment which subsisted between her and his friend Edwin, the latter having made no attempt to deny it; but, being satisfied of the honour of De Willows, had in part entrusted him with the wishes he determined to encourage, notwithstanding the insurmountable, obstacles that appeared to preclude the most distant ray of hope.

"That same love, of which you are thinking and talking, (said De Clavering,) has so many devilifications in its train, I am determined to have nothing to do with it, till it becomes more rational, and can be reduced into a regular system, by which we poor short-sighted mortals may find directions how to act, without exposing ourselves to ridicule or disappointment. I am inclined to think I shall one day or other be tempted to marry, but it shall be to a woman who will take care to keep such ear-wig sort of fellows as you at a proper distance.--You tell fine tales, are all smoothness and deceit,--like a snail can give a gloss to the path you crawl over, and then leave such traces of your deceptive and invidious progress as cannot be concealed. Let the subject of your next satire, De Willows, be the male flirt,--an animal more dangerous than a tyger."

"Why so?" asked De Willows, determined not to apply the hint which he well knew was designed for him.

"Can there (said De Clavering) be found a character more deserving satire?--a thing that borrows the form of man to disgrace the name,--an adept in mean stratagems and mischievous deceives.--insensible to the admonitions of conscience,--well versed in all the practices of refined cruelty,--working like a mole in the dark, in order more effectually to ensnare the youthful heart of unsuspecting innocence, and that merely to gratify the vicious vanity of the moment; and, after he had sacrificed the health, happiness, and perhaps the life, of a young woman, who, by her tender nature, he has beguiled of peace, he laughs at her credulous folly, and boldly declares he had never any thought of making her his wife. That there are such men, who, under the sacred semblance of honour, can act thus despicably, I have, in the form of one once dear to me as life, unhappily experienced, and from that moment I became the friend and champion of the s.e.x, and in bold defiance to all such deceivers, I throw down my gauntlet."

"How, in the name of Cot, came you to be so valiant, (cried Camelford,) as to think of fighting tuels for other people's pranks?"

"Because many of the fair s.e.x are too gentle to vindicate themselves, too artless for suspicion, and too lovely to fall a sacrifice, without arming the hand of courage to avenge their injuries; for I think the man, who can trifle with the peace of a fellow-creature, may be justly compared to one of the exhalations of h.e.l.l, sent to destroy and lay waste the small portion of happiness allotted to our mortal pilgrimage."

"You are warm, (said De Willows, confusedly;) perhaps I have undesignedly given you pain, without knowing I interfered with the wishes or pretensions of any one. On my honour, I never had any; but, on a subject so important, I cannot speak coolly, or canva.s.s it with indifference. I will be frank, and own I admire Edeliza; and, were her heart as much in my power as I fear it is in your's, no man with impunity should wrest it from me."

"Well said, my prave toctor, (cried Camelford;) little tan Cupit must next take care of himself, or your will be after tissecting his cotship; and, though the poor cot is as plind as a peetle, you will be for couching his eyes, till he can see as clear as yourself."

A servant came to invite them to sup with the governor and his party, which luckily put an end to a conversation that was become unpleasant.

It made De Willows rather uncomfortable and small in his own opinion, and compelled him to reflect more seriously on the subject than he had ever done before. Of Madeline it was folly to think any longer.

If Edwin, who was beloved, dared not hope being blest with her hand, without the interference of a miracle, what chance could there be of his succeeding, for whom she felt only the coldest indifference? He determined to take his heart severely to talk, and to--but it was impossible for him at that moment to tell how he should dispose of a heart which had received so many wounds, that it scarcely retained any of its native mutilated form; but, on a more serious examination, he found a something lurking in it that made him feel very reluctant to give up his pleasant and interesting intercourse with the tender and artless Edeliza, which long habit had rendered more necessary to his happiness than he was aware of.

CHAP. XI.

The design of Sir Philip, in giving a ball, was this evening made known, and the next day messages were sent out to invite the company for that day week. Preparations were instantly begun, and new dresses ordered. Madeline and Agnes de Clifford obtained leave to be of the party, and several of the inhabitants of Bungay were highly pleased by receiving invitations. Roseline, on whose account, as much as the Baron's, it was given, was the least gratified. Any scene of cheerfulness to her was become a scene of misery. Her spirits depressed her mind, itself a chaos of contending pa.s.sions, could not admit a single ray of hope or comfort to chase away the gloom which there prevailed. She no longer felt either pleasure or consolation in her stolen interviews with her beloved Walter, which once afforded her such indescribable satisfaction.

They now saw each other with a tender despondence, which served to deprive them of that resolution which could alone support them in those trials which no longer appeared at a distance, and Roseline, sinking under the burthen of her own sorrows, felt herself totally unable to share in those which equally overpowered her unfortunate lover, from whose prison she never went, but he concluded it was the last time he should be indulged with seeing her.

Walter heard of the ball, which was to be given in compliment to his rival, with that kind of contempt and trembling indignation which a brave officer feels at seeing some upstart stripling stepping over his head to preferment, and, by dint of mere advent.i.tious events, obtaining authority to lead those whom he dared not have followed. It has always been said that the sincerest love could not exist without hope. In this instance, however, the a.s.sertion did not hold good; for, though hope was lost, love maintained its empire, and, environed with despair, lost none of that tender energy which had united two hearts under circ.u.mstances the most alarming and distressing.

The conduct of Sir Philip de Morney surprised all those who were let into the secret of the projected alliance. The Baron's pride appeared to have infected him with a mania of the same kind; and the unpleasant change it produced was not more inimical to the happiness of others than he soon found it proved to his own. He was now seldom greeted with the smile of affection: he saw looks of distress, and heard the sigh of discontent vibrate on his ear; and, whilst he condemned the obstinacy of others, determined resolutely to persevere in his own.

How much is it to be lamented, that, with all the knowledge he acquires, man knows so little of himself! How astonishing that a sudden and unexpected change in his prospects, or situation, should instantaneously work so unaccountable a revolution in his feelings, that he scarcely retains any recollection of his former dispositions!--and, still more strange it appears, that, while adversity serves to exalt the mind and purify the heart, prosperity should harden and debase them.

About forty of those who had been invited to the ball returned answers that they would do themselves the honour of accepting the invitation. Roseline became so much changed in her looks, appearance, and manner, that at length the alteration struck the Baron, and he mentioned it to Sir Philip. This produced a second warm altercation between him and Roseline, which ended as the former had done, namely, in the want of resolution, strength, and spirits, on her part, to contend longer on a subject so painful to her feelings, and so inimical to all her hopes of happiness; for Sir Philip now insisted, and that with a degree of unfeeling ferocity, that she should give her hand to the Baron within ten days after the month was expired which he had so foolishly allowed her perverse folly and caprice.

Of this interview Roseline said nothing to her brother or the prisoner, but felt that her fort.i.tude deserted her as time stole away, and, with the deprivation of health and spirits, threatened to leave her an uncontending and helpless victim to the authority she began to doubt having power to resist. Still she determined, if dragged by force to the altar, she would resolutely and openly, before its sacred front, declare not only her unwillingness to become the wife of the Baron, but her repugnance and aversion to the monastic life.

At length the anxiously-expected, the long wished for evening arrived, and produced an a.s.semblage of as much elegance, grace, wit, and beauty, as had ever been collected together in so confined a circle.--From the social town of Bungay some very lovely young women made their first appearance at the castle, decorated to the utmost advantage, and justly ent.i.tled to dispute the palm of beauty with many found in the higher ranks.

On this occasion, it is not to be doubted but they cherished hopes that their charms would conquer some of the young officers appointed to guard the fortress, on which the safety of themselves and the town depended.

From the earliest ages of the world, the old adage prevailed,--"None but the brave deserve the fair," while the military dress, shining sword, and becoming c.o.c.kade, were ever found useful auxiliaries in a.s.sisting their wearer to find easy access to the female heart.

When dancing was ordered to begin, the Baron, arrayed most superbly, took out Roseline, and led her to the upper end of the room. De Willows followed, leading Edeliza, who was drest in the most becoming and captivating stile, and looked so enchantingly beautiful, that he wondered he had ever beheld her with indifference, or preferred another.

Her expressive eyes told a tale so correspondent to the feelings of his own heart, as completed its conquest, and the captivity was found so pleasing and easy, it never afterwards wished to regain its freedom.

Edwin danced with the gentle Madeline; Hugh Camelford with Bertha, and the rest of the party disposed of themselves as their vanity or inclination prompted.

The dancing was begun with avidity and spirit, which some very excellent music served to heighten and keep up. The Baron not ungracefully exhibited his well-dressed person, and this great personage had the satisfaction of seeing that the eyes of the company were chiefly fixed upon him who had procured them this unexpected indulgence,--a circ.u.mstance unusual in an age when expensive pleasures were confined to the higher ranks of life, and by that means less coveted by those in inferior stations, which certainly tended to the good of society in general, as it served to render all parties contented with their lot. We now often see, with pity and regret, if young people are thrown by chance into a walk of life some degrees higher than their habitual one, they seldom know how to return to their former humble path without discontent and regret, which will too often lead them to sacrifice virtue, and every real good, for the frivolous nonsense of the dress and the parade of ceremony, while, to obtain the enjoyment of pleasures destructive to time and real happiness, they will give up their peace of mind, not repent the poor bargain they have made so long as they can live in stile.

Some few pitied, but a far greater number envied Roseline for having made so important a conquest, and were surprised to see how little she was animated amidst the exhilirating scene of gaiety and splendor, wholly occupying the attention of one of the first barons in the kingdom, whose smile by most people would be reckoned an honour, and whose frown among many was destruction from which there was often no appeal.

Every rarity that could be procured was set before the party.

Hospitality and festivity went hand in hand, and, to a careless and uninterested spectator, it would have seemed that universal happiness prevailed; but it was far otherwise. Happiness is seldom found amidst a crowd. In the more retired scenes of serene unambitious enjoyment, we have a much better change of finding that rara avis, and of retaining it in our possession, if possible to be found.

Sir Philip de Morney was tormented with fears that the obstinacy of his daughter would disappoint his ambition, while the tenderness of her mother had so far subdued the influence of her pride, that, to see her daughter restored to her former health and spirits, she would gladly have yielded up the honour of an alliance with the Baron.

The artless unaspiring Roseline, before she was brought into notice by the proud attentions of her n.o.ble admirer, was a far happier being than she found herself at the moment she was looked up to as an object of envy; but the simple dress she had been accustomed to wear was more conformable to her own unadulterated taste than the splendid habiliments with which she was now loaded, and which the pride, or design, of her father had procured to throw a veil over her senses, and tempt her to purchase those still more brilliant at the expence of her peace; yet, notwithstanding all the fascinating allurements with which she saw herself surrounded, the court, adulation, and respect, paid to her, the eagerness of the company to obtain a share in her notice, her heart remained with Walter, the unknown stranger, who belonged to no one,--who was without fortune, and deprived of that freedom which is the birthright of the poorest peasant; nevertheless Walter, in a gloomy and solitary prison, was an object more captivating and far more valuable in her eyes than the lordly Baron in a stately castle.

When they had danced about half an hour after supper, the Baron apologized to Roseline for withdrawing to make some alteration in his dress, which he found unpleasant. She felt herself gratified by this temporary absence, and took the opportunity of chatting with some of her young companions. Deeply engaged in conversation with Madeline and Agnes de Clifford, she did not observe that her father was suddenly called out of the room, and requested by the servant in a whisper to hasten with the utmost speed to the apartment of his friend.

Too much surprised to inquire the cause, he instantly obeyed the summons. On his entrance, I will leave my readers to guess how much he must have been alarmed and shocked at seeing that friend extended on the floor, with every appearance of death on his countenance. After trying various methods to recover him without effect, he ordered one of his people to call De Clavering to his a.s.sistance, who, by some powerful and proper applications, soon produced signs of life, but it was near an hour before any of sense returned. He neither seemed to know where he was, not why he saw so many people about him. At length, however, he recovered his recollection,--said he had been very ill but found himself better, and requested to be left a few minutes in private with Sir Philip de Morney, whom be beckoned to sit down by the side of the bed on which he was laid.

The room being cleared, and the door fastened, to prevent interruption, the Baron grasped the hand of his friend, and in a hurried tone, at the same time looking around him in terror, informed him that he had seen a spirit. "It stood there!" pointing with his finger to a particular part of the room. Sir Philip appeared incredulous, and his looks were not misunderstood.

"Believe me, (continued the Baron,) it was no delusion of the senses.

I actually saw the ghost of my first wife as surely as I now see you, and as perfectly as ever I saw her when alive. She glided out of the apartment the moment I entered it to change my dress, which I found too heavy for dancing. She looked displeased, frowned sternly upon me, and shook her head as she disappeared. Her countenance was as blooming, and retained the same beauty and expression as when I led her in triumph to the altar twenty years ago."

"Surely, my lord, (said Sir Philip,) this supposed visionary appearance must be the effects of the disorder which attacked you so violently, that it led De Clavering, as well as myself, to tremble for your life."

"Say rather, (replied the Baron,) and then you will say right, the disorder was occasioned by the terror, which, in that moment, indeed deprived me of my senses.--If I see you at this time, I then beheld the face, form, and features, of my once-loved Isabella, of whom I was deprived by death in the infancy of my happiness, six months after she had given birth to a son, of whom the same inexorable tyrant robbed me in the fourth year of my second marriage."

Sir Philip found it was useless to contend with his friend on a subject in which he so obstinately persevered; and, though he was satisfied that the fright was merely the effect of disease, he though it wisest to confine his disbelief to his own bosom, and drop the conversation as soon as possible. He insisted on remaining with him the rest of the night, and cherished hopes that by the morning this unaccountable vagary would be forgotten, or only remembered as a sudden delirium, occasioned perhaps by heat, and the unusual exercise in which he had been engaged. His offer of sitting up was cordially accepted, and the two gentlemen agreed it would be right and prudent to say as little about the ghost as possible, Sir Philip secretly trembling left the Baron's unfortunate whim should operate so powerfully upon his feelings as to prevent his fulfilling at engagements with Roseline.

This strange circ.u.mstance occasioned so much confusion and hurry in the castle, that the party separated much earlier than they wished, and every one accounted, as their own humour dictated, for the sudden indisposition of the Baron. One or two, mortified by their pleasure being so unseasonably curtailed, said the old man had better have gone to bed at eight o'clock, or not have attempted dancing in a ball-room when he was dancing on the verge of the grave.