MARINA
About two miles from the castle there stood a pretty house, entirely
hid from view by a thick forest, in a glade of which it was situated.
Behind it was a smooth lawn fringed with odoriferous shrubs, and
before it a tasteful flower garden.
This was the abode of Sir Alured Angus, a Scotchman, who was physician
to His Grace, and though of gentlemanly manners and demeanour, yet
harsh, stern, and somewhat querulous in countenance and disposition.
He was a widower, and had but one child, a daughter, whom I shall
call Marina, which nearly resembles her true name.
No wild rose blooming in solitude, or bluebell peering from an old
wall, ever equalled in loveliness this flower of the forest. The
hue of her cheek would excel the most delicate tint of the former,
even when its bud is just opening to the breath of summer, and the
clear azure of her eyes would cause the latter to appear dull as
a dusky hyacinth. Also, the silken tresses of her hazel hair straying
in light ringlets down a neck and forehead of snow seemed more elegant
than the young tendrils of a vine. Her dress was almost Quaker-like
in its simplicity. Pure white or vernal green were the colours she
constantly wore, without any jewels save one row of pearls round
her neck. She never stirred beyond the precincts of the wooded and
pleasant green lane which skirted a long cornfield near the house.
There on warm summer evenings she would ramble and linger listening
to the woodlark’s song, and occasionally join her own more harmonious
voice to its delightful warblings.
When the gloomy days and nights of autumn and winter did not permit
these walks she amused herself with drawing (for which she had an
exact taste), playing on the harp, reading the best English, French,
and Italian works (all which languages she understood) in her father’s
extensive library, and sometimes a little light needlework.
Thus in a state of almost perfect seclusion (for seldom had she even
Sir Alured’s company, as he generally resided in London) she was
quite happy, and reflected with innocent wonder on those who could
find pleasure in the noisy delights of what is called ‘fashionable
society.’
One day, as Lady Strathelleraye was walking in the wood she met Marina,
and on learning who she was, being charmed with her beauty and sweet
manners, invited her to go on the morrow to the castle. She did so,
and there met the Marquis of Tagus. _He_ was even more surprised
and pleased with her than the duchess, and when she was gone he asked
his mother many questions about her, all of which she answered to
his satisfaction.
For some time afterwards he appeared listless and abstracted. The
reader will readily perceive that he had, to use a cant phrase, ‘fallen
in love.’
Lord Cornelius, his brother, warned him of the folly of doing so;
but instead of listening to his sage admonitions he first strove
to laugh, and then frowning at him commanded silence.
In a few days he paid a visit to Oakwood House (Sir Alured’s mansion),
and after that became more gloomy than before.
His father observed this, and one day as they were sitting alone
remarked it to Albion, adding that he was fully acquainted with the
reason.
Albion reddened but made no answer.
‘I am not, my son,’ continued the duke, ‘opposed to your wishes,
though certainly there is a considerable difference of rank between
yourself and Marina Angus, but that difference is compensated by
the many admirable qualities she possesses.’
On hearing these words, Arthur,—Albion, I mean,—started up, and throwing
himself at his father’s feet, poured forth his thanks in terms of
glowing gratitude, while his fine features, flushed with excitation,
spoke even more eloquently than his eloquent words.
‘Rise, Albion!’ said the duke; ‘you are worthy of her and she of
you; but both are yet too young. Some years must elapse before your
union takes place; therefore exert your patience, my son.’
Albion’s joy was slightly damped by this news, but his thankfulness
and filial obedience as well as love forced him to acquiesce, and
immediately after he quitted the room and took his way to Oakwood
House.
There he related the circumstance to Marina, who, though she blushed
incredulously, yet in truth felt as much gladness and as great a
relief from doubt almost amounting to despair as himself.