"Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell
A votress in Maronan's cell--
Rather through realms beyond the sea,
Seeking the world's cold charity,
An outcast pilgrim will she rove--
Than wed the man she cannot love."
Scott.
"Who rang the bell, Minny?" inquired Della one morning, as she sat
looking over a richly-bound volume of engravings, a recent gift from her
father.
"General Delville, Miss."
"Has mamma gone into the drawing-room?"
"Not yet, Miss; she is preparing to do so."
"Well, Minny, do you go to her, and tell her that Della says, please not
go in this morning, she wishes to see General Delville alone."
"Oh, Miss Della, she would never consent to your seeing him alone in the
world. I'm certain she won't; and there is scarcely any use of asking
her."
"Do as I tell you, Minny dear."
Minny went out.
Since the evening of the party, the General had been very assiduous in
his attentions; waiting upon Mrs. Delancey and her daughter to concerts,
operas, theatres, and every other place which he believed would be
interesting and entertaining to them. His bouquets for Miss Della were
always selected with the greatest care and taste, and had the fair
recipient been possessed of sufficient patience to study out their
language, she would have found the General by no means ignorant of that
delicate manner of expressing thoughts which lose their chief beauty by
being spoken.
Mrs. Delancey, with a watchfulness highly commendable, had never allowed
Della and the General to remain a moment alone together; and she
triumphantly declared, to her _very intimate and confidential_ friends,
that not a sentence of admiration or esteem had the General ever
uttered, but what she had listened to, as well as Della; and that she
should, of course, as much expect to be present when he made his
declaration, as to have Della herself there.
Twice had Della summoned courage to declare, in the presence of both her
parents, that if General Delville came with any idea of winning her love
she wished his visits to cease; for marry him she never would; but both
times had she met with such stormy reproofs from her father, and such
loud appeals to her pride and dignity from her mother, that she had
ceased to argue the matter, and by both parents her acceptance of his
suit was considered a settled thing. A man with a title _militaire_,
and, moreover, half a million at his command, was not to be found as a
wooer every day; and what though his years were many, when he had a
fortune to long outlive him, and station, which any woman might be proud
to gain? Surely, Della would be worse than silly, to throw away such an
opportunity.
Mrs. Delancey was standing before the glass, arranging the folds of her
elegant dress, with all the care of a Miss of eighteen, as Minny entered
the room, and, standing at a respectful distance, delivered the message
her young mistress had given her.
To her surprise, Mrs. Delancey merely raised her eyebrows slightly, as
she heard her out, then turned round, with a smile upon her lips, and
said:--
"Well, I suppose it would be better so. Matters have gone so far now, it
is all as good as settled, and she, no doubt, is aware that he comes
to-day to declare himself, and feels timid, poor thing, about giving her
answer in the presence of a third person. It is but natural. Tell her,
Minny, that her wishes are acceded to."
Minny left the room with a smile, though it was concealed from Mrs.
Delancey. She bounded like a fawn through the shadowy passages to
Della's apartment, and repeated her mother's answer.
"I told you so, Minny!"
"I never could have believed it, Miss!"
With a changing cheek, but firm, resolute step, Della descended to the
drawing-room, and gracefully received her visitor, who looked no less
surprised than pleased to see her enter alone.
General Delville was a splendid-looking man; and this, united with his
wealth and station, could scarcely have failed to win to his heart any
maiden whom he chose to address, less frank and upright than Della
Delancey.
His fine features were lighted up with a beaming smile of pleasure, as
he took her hand and led her to a seat, nor did he resign that hand
without a gentle pressure of the white and perfumed fingers.
For an instant Della sat, with downcast eyes, in silence, while the
General gazed upon her with the same smile upon his lips, but no words.
Suddenly Della lifted her eyes, and turned them full upon the face
before her.
"General Delville?"
"Della."
"Pardon me, sir, for what I am about to say to you, and which I would
have said long ago had I only had the opportunity; and--and--
"Go on, Miss Della," said the General, though he moved uneasily in his
chair.
"General Delville, I, of course, am not unaware of your intentions with
regard to myself, or the object of your visits at papa's house. I would
not pain you for the world, sir; I esteem you, I _love_ you so very
much; but I want to tell you openly, as my heart dictates, that I have
not for you the love that a wife should feel for her husband--only the
love that a child should feel for a dear father; and if I married you, I
could never feel for you anything more."
The General sat before her, looking all the astonishment he felt, but
said not a word. Della went on, with flushed cheek and fluttering heart,
but with voice calm and steady.
"Indeed, sir, I feel for you all the earnest esteem, all the warm,
enduring affection, which a knowledge of your character cannot fail to
inspire one with, especially one so very much younger than yourself as
I. But as for that love which would make me truthfully perform the
marriage vows, I do not experience it, and never can. I have never,
since the first evening I met you, sir, intended in the least to
encourage any particular attention on your part for myself. The
encouragement, which I will admit has been by no means slight, you must
acknowledge has been entirely on the part of my parents."
"And that is where a gentleman looks for encouragement, Miss Delancey."
"Most unfortunately, too true, sir; but in this instance I cannot
conform to such a code of ethics, and give you a heart beating always
indifferently for you. I set the case before you as it is. I tell you
the _truth_, which I have longed to do long since, but _could_ not; and
now, knowing this, can you wish to make me your bride? I am sure you
cannot. Still, if you persist, here is my hand, given in obedience to my
parents."
The hand was taken, and held fondly against the stout heart beside her;
and for a moment neither spoke--the old man looking thoughtfully upon
the floor--the young girl gazing anxiously into his expressive face.
"Deep as is my disappointment, Miss Della, I cannot but confess that you
have acted nobly. You have even won my heart closer in the last half
hour than ever before. You have done what I would never have expected
you would do; and, though I am the sufferer, I honor--I admire you for
it. True, I am an old man; I could never have _seemed_ other than a
father to you, however much the husband I might have _felt_. I came
to-day to lay my heart and fortune at your feet: a heart which, though
old, would have been true to you, and loved you dearly. It is, of
course, needless to tell you how great is my disappointment. I ask no
sacrifice of you, however. May you always be happy! God bless you!"
Della burst into tears.
"General Delville, I knew I could not be mistaken in your noble nature."
"Pardon an old man's curiosity, my child," said he, dropping at once
into the relationship Della had chosen for them; "but may I ask if a
younger suitor influences you in this matter?"
Della blushed very deeply, but answered, frankly, through her tears, in
the affirmative.
"You are sure you have chosen one worthy of such a heart as yours?"
"I think so, most truly."
"And his circumstances and station befit your own?"
"In point of wealth and station he is undoubtedly beneath me; but in
nature, in heart, I am certain he is all I could wish."
"And, knowing this, how could your father sanction my suit?"
"He knew nothing of these circumstances, sir. I have, from necessity,
kept it a secret from him. May I trust you to do the same?"
"You may, indeed. I would not sanction duplicity between father and
child; but neither would I have you sacrifice your happiness to a
father's pride. In early youth, had she, who won my first affections,
been as true to me, through such a test, as you have been to him you
love through this, I would, probably, have never occupied the position
of an old and disappointed suitor before you here."
"I would gladly reveal all to my parents, but that I know and dread the
consequences. And when they learn the course I have this day pursued
with you, the storm will perhaps be no less fierce."
"Fear nothing, Della; from this hour I am your sincere and devoted
champion, in all causes wherein I believe you to be _right_. The
confidence you have placed in me shall never be betrayed. Your father I
will gradually turn aside from the ideas he has cherished with regard to
you and myself. It is all better, no doubt, as it is; this, I must
admit, however lonely my heart may throb in saying it. I had hoped to be
happy in holding you to that heart, as one of its own rightful
treasures. I will now strive to make myself happy in seeing her so I
could not win. Whenever you want a friend, my child--one faithful and
sincere, and uninfluenced by selfish motives--you will ever find one in
the old man who has dared to love you, and whom you have this day
rejected."
Della placed both hands in General Delville's, and looked up earnestly
and trustfully into his noble face.
"Believe me, I always will."
"And I may continue to be a welcome visitor here?"
"Always, always."
"Enough, Della. Farewell."
"Adieu, _mon ami_!"
The General's tall figure passed into the lofty hall, and Della heard
the door close behind him. She hurried to a window, and watched him as
he descended the steps and entered his carriage, then, with a feeling of
reverential affection for that proud spirit and noble heart which an
hour before she had scarcely expected to feel, she passed out of the
parlor on her way to her own room. Traces of tears were still upon her
cheeks, and her whole face still bore evidence of recent agitation.
As she was about to ascend the stairs, Mrs. Delancey's maid met her,
with the message that her mother desired an interview.
"Say to my mother, that I beg to be excused for a few moments, but will
be with her presently," said Della, proceeding up the stairs.
The girl obeyed, but returned immediately, and over-taking Della on the
stairs, said:--
"Mistress says you must come instantly, Miss; that she wishes to see you
before you go to your room."
Dispelling, as far as possible, all traces of agitation, Della returned
to her mother's apartment. The moment Mrs. Delancey's eyes fell upon her
child's features, she held out her hand, with a bland smile,
exclaiming:--
"Ah, Dort, I see how it is, dear; couldn't get through with a proposal
without crying a little, eh? Rather undignified, I must say, but
perfectly natural for unexperienced girls, I suppose. Allow me to
congratulate you."
Della pressed the hand her mother gave, and made an effort to speak; but
choked, faltered, and failed entirely, bursting into a violent fit of
weeping instead.
"Really, my child, you surprise--you shock me; if you can't behave any
better now, what will you ever do at the wedding? Really, I am ashamed
of you! At your age I had received seven offers, and never shed a tear!"
"Perhaps you didn't accept them, Madam; and so, sever the ties which
bound you to father and mother, and home," said Minnie, who had entered
just in time to hear Mrs. Delancey's last remark.
"That's true enough," returned the lady, as if she had not thought of
the fact before. "Della, you can go to your room till you are more
composed; I will tell your father what has happened, so your timidity
will be spared that."
"Oh, don't tell him anything, mamma; don't tell him this," sobbed Della.
"Nonsense, Dort; worse and worse. Go to your room, and don't make your
appearance again until you can come with a face more composed, and
features not all swollen and distorted by weeping."
Della obeyed, and her mother saw her no more that night.
"Oh, Minny!" exclaimed the young girl, as the privacy of her own
apartment was gained, and she threw herself, still sobbing, on the
quadroon's bosom; "didn't you know before I went down that I never would
accept him, that I never could marry him, never?"
"Yes, Miss, I knew it."
"Yet you implied to mamma, Minn, that you believed I had accepted him,
and you know she thinks I tell you everything. Oh, Minny, you musn't
tell falsehoods for my sake!"
"I told no falsehood, Miss; I only asked your mamma a simple question,
that you might get free, as I knew you wished to be."
"But I know she thought you meant that."
"It is wrong for people, to jump so hastily at conclusions."
"But, Minny, you know you intended mamma should jump at that."
"Well, Miss Della, don't chide me now about it; if it got you off
without any more questions you are very glad, are you not?"
"Of course, if it wasn't falsehood."
"It certainly was not, Miss Della; now dry your eyes, and I will show
you something."
"A letter, Minn, from--from _him_?"
Minny smiled, and nodded her head.
"Bathe my eyes, then, and I won't shed another tear."
Minny obeyed; and Della, with trembling fingers, tore open the letter,
and perused it.
"Is it good, Miss?"
"Sweet Minny, read it yourself."
The quadroon took it, and, as she stood behind her mistress, the tremor
which seized her frame, when she looked upon that handwriting, was
unseen and unthought of by any but herself.
"Delightful, Miss Della."
"Yes; now, Minny, put it with the rest."
"You won't have it beneath your pillow then, for the first night?"
"No, Minn; put it away. I am going to dream of General Delville,
to-night, if I can--the best and noblest, and kindest man, excepting
somebody you know, that ever I knew."
"Indeed, Miss! I'm so glad he proved so."
"Oh, yes, Minn, I can never tell you how noble and good he is; but,
Minn, these letters--Bernard's letters--you are very sure you kept them
all safe, perfectly secure?"
"As the apple of my eye, Miss."
"I have felt anxious about them sometimes of late, and have thought of
offering to take care of them myself; but there's Madam Gerot in these
rooms every week; I could hide nothing from her lynx eyes. I think I
might do without a governess now--don't you, after having had a proposal
from a General?"
"Your mamma thinks she perfects your manners, Miss."
"All nonsense! I never have any grace or manner when she is in sight.
Minny, the truth is, I am prettier and more graceful when I am right
here with you, than I would be with all the French dancing-masters and
ornamental governesses in the world."
"Bless your dear heart!"
"Thank you, Minn; nobody ever blessed me save you and General Delville;
he blessed me to-day in such a beautiful way, it went straight to my
heart. Oh, if it is so sweet to be blessed by the rich, what must it be,
Minny, to be blessed by the poor?"
Minny was silent.
"If ever I get out of fashionable society, Minn, I shall never court it
again. It is a heartless sphere! I would sooner be a stone than human,
with no humanity beyond flesh and blood, and that cast in a fashionable
mould."
"Your mamma is a fashionable woman, Miss, and seems very happy."
"It is only seeming, Minn. She has more misery over an ill-fitting
dress, an unshapely shoe, or an awkward glove, than you and I have in an
age. I was born out of my sphere, I know I was; I ought to have been
poor."
"You may be, one of these days, Miss."
"How so, Minn? What do you mean?"
"Disinherited."
"Oh, no! that will never be, I am certain."
"But you'd not be unhappy if it should happen?"
"Only for Bernard."
"I am very happy to hear this."
"Dear Minnie, you have so many foolish fears!"
"It is better to think of these things."
"True enough. Good night, Minn!"
"Good night. You are going to sleep early, Miss?"
"So as to have bright eyes in the morning, dear."
Lonely, without her mistress, Minnie also prepared for sleep; and that
night Bernard's letter was placed beneath _her_ pillow, and her dreams
were of him.
Della, as she had hoped, dreamed of General Delville. All night long was
his noble face before her, wearing that radiant expression which had
illuminated it when he bade God bless her. Never afterwards, in all her
waking hours, whether in joy or gloom, light or darkness, did Della
cease to remember him as she dreamed of him there with the halo of that
blessing circling him and her.
Lightly as he had seemed to give her up, it had cost the General a more
severe struggle than Della had imagined. He had truly _loved_ her, old
as he was, and had not loved lightly; but he could not take to his heart
the heartless wife which she had frankly admitted she must be if he
married her; and Della had, unwittingly, skillfully touched a tender
chord, when she made the appeal to his feelings which she did. He had
felt the force of her reasoning, and had been delighted with her
frankness and her confidence; though it pained him to relinquish her, he
was too much a soldier to display his wounds; and, though he parted from
her nominally a _friend_, he was never more her lover than when he that
afternoon called her his child and bade her adieu.