_More Mystery_
THERE must have been something peculiarly captivating in the air of our
island; for Lord Bohun, who, according to his own account, had never
remained in any place a week in the whole course of his life, exhibited
no inclination to quit the city where Major Ponsonby presided over the
interests of our commerce. He had remained there nearly a month,
made himself very agreeable, and, on the whole, was a welcome guest,
certainly with the Consul, if not with the Consul’s daughter. As for the
name of Mr. Ferrers, it occasionally occurred in conversation. Henrietta
piqued herself upon the unsuspected inquiries which she carried on
respecting her absent friend. She, however, did not succeed in eliciting
much information. Lord Bohun was so vague, that it was impossible to
annex a precise idea to anything he ever uttered. Whether Ferrers were
rich or poor, really of good family, or, as she sometimes thought, of
disgraceful lineage; when and where Lord Bohun and himself had been
fellow-travellers--all was alike obscure and shadowy. Not that her noble
guest was inattentive to her inquiries; on the contrary, he almost
annoyed her by his constant devotion: she was almost, indeed, inclined
to resent his singularly marked expressions of admiration as an insult;
when, to her utter astonishment, one morning her father astounded her by
an announcement that Lord Bohun had done her the honour of offering her
his hand and heart. The beautiful Henrietta was in great perplexity.
It was due to Lord Bohun to reject his flattering proposal without
reservation: it was difficult, almost impossible, to convince her father
of the expediency of such a proceeding. There was in the proposal of
Lord Bohun every circumstance which could gratify Major Ponsonby. In
the wildest dreams of his paternal ambition, his hopes had never soared
higher than the possession of such a son-in-law: high born, high
rank, splendid fortune, and accomplished youth, were combined in the
individual whom some favouring destiny, it would seem, had wafted to
this distant and obscure isle to offer his vows to its accomplished
mistress. That his daughter might hesitate, on so brief an acquaintance,
to unite her eternal lot in life with a comparative stranger, was what
he had in some degree, anticipated; but that she should unhesitatingly
and unreservedly decline the proposal, was conduct for which he was
totally unprepared. He was disappointed and mortified--for the first
time in his life he was angry with his child. It is strange that Lord
Bohun, who had required a deputy to make, a proposition which, of all
others, the most becomes and most requires a principal, should, when
his fate was decided, have requested a personal interview with Miss
Ponsonby. It was a favour which she could not refuse, for her father
required her to grant it. She accordingly prepared herself for a
repetition of the proposal from lips, doubtless unaccustomed to sue in
vain. It was otherwise: never had Lord Bohun conducted himself in a more
kind and unaffected manner than during this interview: it pained Miss
Ponsonby to think she had pained one who was in reality so amiable: she
was glad, however, to observe that he did not appear very much moved or
annoyed. Lord Bohun expressed his gratitude for the agreeable hours he
had spent in her society; and then most delicately ventured to inquire
whether time might, perhaps, influence Miss Ponsonby’s determination.
And when he had received her most courteous, though hopeless answer, he
only expressed his wishes for her future happiness, which he could not
doubt.
‘I feel,’ said Lord Bohun, as he was about to depart; ‘I feel,’ he
said, in a very hesitating voice, ‘I am taking a great, an unwarrantable
liberty; but believe me, dear Miss Ponsonby, the inquiry, if I could
venture to make it, is inspired by the sincerest desire for your
welfare.
Speak with freedom, Lord Bohun; you will ever, I am sure, speak with
kindness.’
‘I would not willingly despair then, unless I believed that heart were
engaged to another.’
Miss Ponsonby bent down and plucked a flower, and, her brow covered with
blushes, with an agitated hand tore the flower to pieces.
‘Is this a fair inquiry?’ she murmured. ‘It is for your sake I inquire,’
answered Lord Bohun.
Now an irresistible conviction came over her mind that Lord Bohun was
thinking of Ferrers, and a desire on her part as strong to learn at
length something of her mysterious lover.
‘What, indeed, if I be not mistress of my heart?’ She spoke without
raising her head.
‘In that case I will believe that it belongs to one worthy of such a
treasure.’
‘You speak of Edmund Ferrers?’ said Miss Ponsonby.
‘The same.’
‘You know him?’ she inquired, in a choking voice.
‘I know and honour him. I have long believed that the world did not
boast a man more gifted; now I know that it does not possess a man more
blessed.’
‘Shall you see him?’ she inquired in a quick tone.
‘Probably you will see him first; I am sufficiently acquainted with his
movements to know that he will soon be here. This Greek boy whom you
have sometimes noticed is his page; I wish him to join his master again;
and methinks the readiest way will be to leave him in this isle. Here,
Spiridion, bow to your new mistress, and be dutiful for her sake, as
well as that of your lord’s. Adieu! dearest Miss Ponsonby!’